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Speaker  of  the 

House  of  Representatives, 

"  I  commend  the  book  most  highly." 

WILLIAM    McKINLEY, 

F resident  of  the  United  States. 

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A   STOI^Y    IN    FIGURES. 


T 


'HE  actual  quantity  of  beer  produced 
by  the  Pabst  Itrewing  Co.  of  Mil- 
waukee, during  the  past  3<)  years, 
n-aches  the  K'"and  total  of  10,<»39,- 
9!M  liarrels.  This  reduced  to  gallons 
e(iiials  35<),or9,802  KaHons,  or,  if  juit  up 
iu  pint  bottle*;,  would  nMiuire2,!!<0C).ti;K4tjO 
l)ottles.  Thisnunil)erof  bottles,  if  ])lace<:l 
end  to  end. would  measure  •Jt),(',(i6,055,K)8 
inchts,  or  2,2^,171,2^S  feet.  But  these 
figures  are  bewildering,  so  we  shall  re- 
duce the  feet  to  miles,  making  418,02.5 
miles  of  pint  bottles.  If  this  pnxluct 
was  barreled  In  the  usual  way  and  kiadetl  f>n  cars  and  the.se  cars 
made  into  a  single  train,  can  you  imagine  tliat  this  train  would 
contain  1 82, . 3.3:1  era rs,  and  would  require  18  miles  of  engines  or 
2,604  k)Cfiniotives  to  move  it,  each  capable  of  hauling  70  loaded 
cars?  The  length  of  this  train  would  be  fi,b.51,7.3'.'  fiet,  or  1,259 
miles.  It  would  require  an  area  e(iual  to  the  entire  District  of 
Columbia,  gridironed  with  tracks  in  which  to  make  it  up,  and 
when  made  xiyt  would  reach  from  New  York  to  Sioux  City,  Iowa. 
Manned  as  all  freight  trains  are,  it  would  require  the  services 
of  2,Caj  engineers,  2,6<M  firemen,  7,f]2brakemen,  or  a  total  of  13,020 
expt-rifnccd  railroad  men,  who  would  requin^  for  a  iourney  by 
the  sliortt'st  and  (juickest  route  from  Milwaukee  to  New  York, 
130,210  uifals.  The  engines  would  in  the  meantime  consume 
78,0!K)  tons  of  cf>al,  and  the  railroiid  company  performing  the 
service  would  render  a  bill  for  $12,471,577.20. 


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WlifH  oiiHweriuy  thin  MlverU»emeHt  pleaae  mention  Globe  LAbrury. 


FOR  THE  DEFENSE 


BY 

FERGUS   HUME, 

author  of 
Mystery  of  a  Hansom  Cab,"  "  Harlequin  Opal,"  etc. 


CHICAGO  AND   NEW  YORK: 

RAND,  McNALLY  &  COMPANY, 

PUBLISHERS. 


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(sjCompLexion, 

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dlTT^CHICAGO: 


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Direct  from  Distiller 
To  Consumer 


Saving  Middlemen's  Profits 
Preventing  Possibility  of  Adulteration 

We  are  distillers  with  a  wide  reputation  of  80  years  Btand- 
luK.  Our  whole  enormous  product  Is  sold  to  consumers 
direct.  Wo  sell  direct  BO  tljut  our  wlilskiy  iiiiiy  \w  pure 
when  It  reaches  you.    I  rited 

whiskey  Is  dangerous.  nil- 

nable,  yet  It  Is  ahnosC  i;  ,  roin 

dealers.  Wehave  tensoi  ,:,...-..... ,o  <.i  .  u^,.,jii(.in  nuujjiver 
buy  clacwhere.  A  custoiiier  who  oiiee  triea  our  whiskey  Is  a 
ciistoiiier  always.  We  want  more  of  them,  and  we  make  the 
following  offer  to  get  them: 

We  win  send  four  full  quart  bottles  of  ITnynrr's  Hewn 
Year  Old  I>ou bio  Copper  Di  HI illedUye  for  )§ia.'^0, 
ExpreHM  J'r«'imld.  »e  ship  In  pl.iln  pnckoKt-s-  no 
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ment).   ■\\ '  ii.  and  Ictit  It,  If  It  Isn't  siUlHfiictory 

return  It  ii:  and  we  will  return  vour  f3.20.   Such 

whiskey  caunuL  nu  i;un;liasod  elsewhere  for  less  than  $5.00. 

We  are  the  only  distillers  selling  to  consumers  direct. 
Others  who  claim  to  l)e  are  dealers,  buying  and  selling.  Our 
whiskey  has  our  reputation  behind  It. 

Keferences-Dunor  Bradstreet  or  any  bank  or  busi- 
ness bouse  in  Dayton. 

Ha}  oer  Distillioe  Co.,  215  to  221 W.  5tfi  St.,  Dayton,  0. 


When  answering  this  advertisement  please  mtniioH  Globe  Ubrary. 

CopyffchniJT.  bvT-'erffus  Hume. 
Copyright,  1898,  by  It&nd,  Mchally  &  Co. 


SRie 
urn 


cc/  ^iq^rfy 


FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 


CHAPTER    I. 
THE  MAJOR  AND  HIS  HOUSEHOLD. 

Laurence  Jen  was  a  retired  major,  a  bachelor, 
and  the  proprietor  of  a  small  estate  at  Hurstleigh, 
in  Surrey.  On  leaving  the  service,  he  decided — not 
unwisely — that  it  was  better  to  be  a  Triton  in  the 
country  than  a  minnow  in  town;  and  acting  upon 
this  theory  he  purchased  "Ashantee"  from  a  ruined 
squire.  Formerly  the  place  had  been  called  Sarby- 
lands,  after  its  original  owners;  but  Jen  had 
changed  the  name,  in  honor  of  the  one  campaign  in 
which  he  had  participated. 

He  had  been  present  at  the  downfall  of  King 
Koffee;  he  had  contracted  during  the  expedition  an 
ague  which  tormented  him  greatly  during  his  later 
life,  and  he  had  received  a  wound  and  a  medal. 
In  gratitude,  it  is  to  be  presumed,  for  these  gifts  of 
fortune,  the  major,  with  some  irony,  had  converted 
the  name  Sarbylands  into  the  barbaric  appellation 


6  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

of  a  West  African  kingdom;    and  here,  for  many 
years,  he  lived  with  his  two  boys. 

These  lads,  named  respectively  Maurice  Alyraer 
and  David  Sarby,  were  in  no  way  related  to  the 
major,  who,  as  has  been  stated  before,  was  a  bach- 
elor; but  they  had  entered  into  his  life  in  rather 
an  odd  fashion.  Alymer  was  the  son  of  a  beautiful 
girl  with  whom  Jen  had  been  passionately  in  love, 
but  she  did  not  return  his  affection,  and  married 
one  of  his  brother  officers,  who  was  afterward 
killed  in  the  Ashantee  war.  On  returning  to  Eng- 
land Jen  cherished  a  hope  that  she  would  reward  his 
love  by  a  second  marriage,  but  the  shock  of  her 
husband's  death  proved  too  much  for  the  fragile 
widow.  She  died  within  a  week  after  receiving  the 
terrible  news,  and  left  behind  her  a  wailing  infant, 
which  was  consigned  to  the  cold  charity  of  indiffer- 
ent relatives. 

It  was  then  that  the  major  displayed  the  goodness 
of  his  heart  and  the  nobility  of  his  character. 
Forgetting  his  own  sorrows,  he  obtained  permission 
from  the  relatives  to  adopt  the  child,  and  to  take 
charge  of  the  trifle  of  property  coming  to  the  lad. 
Then  he  bought  Sarbylands;  set  estate  and  house 
in  order  under  the  name  "Ashantee,"  and  devoted 
his  life  to  cherishing  and  training  the  lad,  in  whose 
blue  eyes  he  saw  a  look  of  his  dead  love.  This 
Platonic  affection  begotten  by  the  deathless  memory 
of  the  one  passion  of  his  life,  filled  his  existence  com- 
pletely and  rendered  him  entirely  happy. 

With  regard  to  David  Sarby,  he  had  passed  with 


THE  MAJOR  AND  HIS  HOUSEHOLD.  7 

the  estate  to  Jen.  The  boy's  father,  a  libertine, 
a  drunkard  and  a  confirmed  gambler,  had  been 
forced,  through  his  vices,  to  sell  his  ancestral  home; 
and  within  a  year  of  the  sale  he  had  dissipated  the 
purchase  money  in  debauchery.  Afterward,  like 
the  sordid  and  pitiful  coward  he  had  always  proved 
himself  to  be,  he  committed  suicide,  leaving  his 
only  son,  whose  mother  had  long  since  been 
worried  into  her  grave,  a  pauper  and  an  orphan. 

The  collateral  branches  of  the  old  Sarby  family 
had  died  out;  the  relatives  on  the  mother's  side 
refused  to  have  anything  to  do  with  a  child  who,  if 
heredity  went  for  anything,  might  prove  to  be  a 
chip  of  the  old  block ;  and  little  David  might  have 
found  himself  thrown  on  the  parish,  but  that  Major 
Jen,  pitying  the  forlorn  condition  of  the  child,  saved 
him  from  so  ignominious  a  fate.  His  heart  and  his 
house  were  large  enough  to  receive  another  pen- 
sioner, so  he  took  David  back  to  the  old  deserted 
mansion,  and  presented  him  to  Maurice  as  a  new 
playfellow.  Henceforth  the  two  boys  grew  to 
manhood  under  the  devoted  care  of  the  cheerful  old 
bachelor,  who  had  protected  their  helpless  infancy. 

The  major  was  fairly  well-to-do,  having,  besides 
his  pension,  considerable  private  property,  and  he 
determined  in  the  goodness  of  his  heart,  that  "the 
boys,"  as  he  fondly  called  them,  should  have  every 
advantage  in  starting  life.  He  sent  them  both  to 
Harrow,  and  when  they  left  that  school,  he  called 
upon  them  to  choose  their  professions.  Maurice, 
more    of    an  athlete  than  a  scholar,    selected   the 


8  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

army,  and  the  delighted  major,  who  highly  approved 
of  his  choice,  entered  him  at  Sandhurst.  Of  a 
more  reflective  nature  an^  studious  mind,  David 
wished  to  become  a  lawyer,  with  a  possible  idea  of 
ending  as  Lord  Chancellor;  and  accordingly  his 
guardian  sent  him  to  Oxford. 

Both  lads  proved  themselves  worthy  of  Jen's 
goodness,  and  were  soon  in  active  exercise  of  the 
professions  which  they  had  chosen.  Maurice  joined 
a  cavalry  regfiment  and  Da\'id  was  admitted  to  the 
bar.  Then  the  major  was  thankful.  His  boys  were 
provided  for,  and  it  only  remained  that  each  should 
marry  some  charming  girl,  and  bring  their  families 
to  gladden  an  old  bachelor's  heart  at  "Ashantee." 
The  major  had  many  day  dreams  of  this  sort ;  but 
alas !  they  were  destined  never  to  be  fulfilled.  In 
the  summer  of  '95  Fate  began  her  work  of  casting 
into  dire  confusion  the  hitherto  placid  lives  of  the 
two  young  men. 

Frequently  the  young  barrister  and  the  soldier 
came  to  visit  their  guardian,  for  whom  they  both 
cherished  a  deep  affection.  On  the  occasion  of 
each  visit  Jen  was  accustomed  to  celebrate  their 
presence  by  a  small  festival,  to  which  he  would 
ask  two  or  three  friends.  With  simple  craft,  the 
old  man  would  invite  also  pretty  girls,  with  their 
mothers;  in  the  hope  that  his  lads  might  be  lured 
into  matrimony. 

The  major,  owing  to  circumstances  heretofore 
related,  was  a  confirmed  bachelor,  but  he  did  not 
intend  that  his    boys    should    follow    so    bad    an 


THE  MAJOR  AND  HIS  HOUSEHOLD.  9 

example.  He  wished  Maurice  to  marry  Miss  Isa- 
bella Dallas,  a  charming  blonde  from  the  West 
Indies;  and  David  he  designed  as  the  husband  of 
Lady  Meg  Brance,  daughter  o^  Lord  Seamere.  But 
Jen  was  mistaken  in  thinking  that  he  could  guide 
the  erratic  affections  of  youth,  as  will  hereafter  be 
proved.  Sure  enough,  the  lads  fell  in  love,  but  both 
with  the  same  woman,  a  state  of  things  not  antici- 
pated by  the  major,  who  was  too  simple  to  be  a 
matchmaker. 

On  this  special  occasion,  however,  no  ladies  were 
present  at  the  little  dinner,  and  besides  Jen  and  his 
two  boys.  Dr.  Etwald  was  the  only  guest.  About 
this  man  with  the  strange  name  there  is  something 
to  be  said. 

He  was  tall,  he  was  thin,  with  a  dark,  lean  face, 
and  fiery  watchful  dark  eyes.  For  three  years  he 
had  been  wasting  his  talents  in  the  neighboring 
town  of  Deanminster;  when,  if  intellect  were  in 
question,  he  should  have  been  shouldering  his  way 
above  the  crowd  of  mediocrities  in  London.  The 
man  was  dispassionate,  brilliant  and  persevering; 
he  had  in  him  the  makings  not  only  of  a  great  phy- 
sician, but  of  a  great  man;  and  he  was  wasting  his 
gifts  in  a  dull  provincial  town.  He  was  unpopular 
in  Deanminster,  owing  to  the  absence  of  what  is 
termed  "a  good  bedside  manner,"  and  the  invalids 
of  the  cathedral  city  and  Hurstleigh,  for  he  had 
patients  in  both  places,  resented  his  brusque  ways 
and  avoidance  of  their  scandal-mongering  tea 
parties.     Also  he  was  a  mystery ;  than  which  therQ 


lo  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

can  be  no  greater  sin  in  provincial  eyes.  No  one 
knew  who  Etwald  was,  or  whence  he  came,  or 
why  he  wasted  his  talents  in  the  desert  of  Dean- 
minster;  and  such  secret  past  which  he  declined  to 
yield  up  to  the  most  persistent  questioner,  accen- 
tuated the  distrust  caused  by  his  sombre  looks  and 
curt  speeches.  Provincial  society  is  intolerant  of 
originality. 

Etwald  had  become  acquainted  with  Jen  profes- 
sionally, and  having  cured  the  major  of  one  of  his 
frequent  attacks  of  ague,  he  had  passed  from 
being  a  mere  medical  attendant  into  the  closer  rela- 
tionship of  a  friend.  The  boys  had  met  him  once 
or  twice,  but  neither  of  them  cared  much  for  his 
sombre  personality,  and  they  were  not  overpleased 
to  find  that  the  major  had  invited  the  man  to  meet 
them  on  the  occasion  of  this  special  dinner. 

But  Jen,  good,  simple  soul,  was  rather  taken  with 
Etwald's  mysticism,  and,  moreover,  pitied  his  lone- 
liness. Therefore  he  welcomed  this  intellectual 
pariah  to  his  house  and  board;  and  on  this  fine 
June  evening  Etwald  was  enjoying  an  excellent 
dinner  in  the  company  of  three  cheerful  com- 
panions. 

Outside,  the  peaceful  landscape  was  filled  with  a 
warm  amber  light,  and  this  poured  into  the  oak- 
paneled  dining-room  through  three  French  windows 
which  opened  onto  a  close -shaven  lawn.  Dinner 
was  at  an  end;  Jaggard,  the  major's  valet,  butler 
and  general  factotum,  had  placed  the  wines  before 
his  master,    and  was  now  handing  around   cigars 


THE  MAJOR  AND  HIS  HOUSEHOLD.  ii 

and  cigarettes.  All  being  concluded  to  his  satisfac- 
tion— no  easy  attainment,  for  Jaggard,  trained  in 
military  fashion,  was  very  precise — he  departed, 
closing  the  door  after  him.  The  warm  light  of  the 
evening  flashed  on  the  polished  table — Major  Jen 
was  sufficiently  old-fashioned  to  have  the  cloth 
removed  for  desert — and  lighted  up  the  four  faces 
around  it  with  pale  splendor.  This  quartette  of 
countenances  is  not  unworthy  of  a  detailed  descrip- 
tion. 

Major  Jen's  calls  for  least.  His  face  was  round 
and  red,  with  a  terrific  blonde  mustache  fiercely 
curled.  He  had  merry  blue  eyes,  sparse  hair,  more 
than  touched  with  gray,  and  an  expression  of 
good-humor  which  was  the  index  to  his  character. 
Man,  woman  and  child  trusted  Jen  on  the  spot,  nor 
was  it  ever  said  that  such  trust  was  misplaced. 
Even  the  most  censorious  could  find  no  fault  with 
the  frank  and  kindly  major,  and  he  had  more 
friends  and  more  pensioners  and  fewer  enemies 
than  any  man  in  the  shire.  Can  any  further 
explanation  be  required  of  so  simple  and  easily 
understood  a  character? 

Lieutenant  Maurice  Alymer  was  also  blonde,  and 
also  had  blue  eyes  and  a  jaunty  mustache,  some- 
what smaller  than  his  senior's.  His  hair  was 
yellow  and  curly,  his  features  were  boldly  cut,  and 
his  six  foot  of  flesh  and  muscle  was  straight  and  lithe. 
Athlete  was  stamped  strongly  on  his  appearance, 
and  if  not  clever,  he  was  at  least  sufficiently  good- 
looking  and  good-natured  to  make  him  almost  as 


12  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

popular  as  the  major.  Jen  always  maintained  that 
Maurice  was  the  living  image  of  himself  when  a 
dashing  young  officer,  out  in  Ashantee;  but  as  the 
good  major  was  considerably  under  the  middle 
height  and  Maurice  considerably  over  it,  this  state- 
ment must  be  accepted  with  some  reserve.  It 
passed  as  one  of  Jen's  jokes,  for  a  mild  quality  of 
which  he  was  noted. 

The  other  two  men  had  dark  and  strong  faces, 
which  differed  entirely  from  the  Saxon  simplicity 
and  good  looks  of  the  major  and  Maurice.  David 
was  clean-shaven  and  almost  as  swart  as  Etwald, 
and  his  expression  was  that  of  a  being  with  power- 
ful passions,  held  in  check  by  sheer  force  of  will. 
He  was  broad  and  strongly  built;  and  his  smooth 
black  hair,  parted  in  the  middle,  was  brushed 
carefully  from  a  bold  and  rather  protuberant  fore- 
head. The  young  barrister  was  somewhat  of  a 
dandy,  but  no  one  who  once  looked  at  his  face 
thought  of  his  dress  affectations  or  dapper  appear- 
ance. They  saw  intellect,  pride  and  resolute  will 
stamped  upon  the  pale  countenance.  Men  with 
such  faces  end  usually  in  greatness ;  and  it  seemed 
unlikely  that  David  Sarby,  barrister  and  ambitious 
youth,  would  prove  an  exception  to  the  rule. 

Lastly  Etwald.  It  is  difficult  to  describe  the 
indescribable.  He  was  austere  in  face,  like  Dante, 
with  hollow  cheeks,  and  a  pallid  hue  which  told  of 
midnight  studies.  If  he  had  passions,  they  could 
not  be  discerned  in  his  features.  Eye  and  mouth 
and  general  expression  were  like  a  mask.      What 


THE  MAJOR  AND  HIS  HOUSEHOLD.  13 

actually  lay  behind  that  mask  no  one  ever  knew,  for 
it  was  never  off.  His  slightly  hollow  chest,  his 
lean  and  nervous  hands,  and  a  shock  of  rather 
long,  curling  hair,  tossed  from  a  high  forehead, 
gave  Etwald  the  air  of  a  student.  But  there  was 
something  sinister  and  menacing  in  his  regard. 
He  looked  dangerous  and  more  than  a  trifle 
imcanny.  Physically,  mentally,  morally  he  was 
an  enigma  to  the  bovine  inhabitants  of  Deanminster 
and  Hurstleigh. 

Major  Jen  sustained  the  burden  of  conversation, 
for  Maurice  was  absent-minded,  and  David,  physi- 
ognomically  inclined,  was  silently  attempting  to 
read  the  inscrutable  countenance  of  Etwald.  As 
for  this  latter,  he  sat  smoking,  with  his  brilliant 
eyes  steadily  fixed  upon  Maurice.  The  young  man 
felt  uneasy  under  the  mesmeric  gaze  of  the  doctor, 
and  kept  twisting  and  turning  in  his  seat.  Finally 
he  broke  out  impatiently  in  the  midst  of  the  major's 
babble,  and  asked  Etwald  a  direct  question. 

"Does  my  face  remind  you  of  anyone?"  he 
demanded  rather  sharply. 

"Yes,  Mr.  Alymer,"  replied  Etwald,  deliberately, 
"it  reminds  me  of  a  man  who  died." 

"Dear  me!"  said  Jen,  with  a  sympathetic  look. 

"Was  he  a  friend  of  yours,  doctor?" 

"Well,  no,  major,  I  can't  say  that  he  was.  In 
fact,"  added  Etwald,  with  the  air  of  a  man  making 
a  simple  statement,  "I  hated  him!" 

"I  hope  you  don't  hate  me?"  said  Maurice,  rather 
annoyed. 


14  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

"No,  Mr.  Alymer,  I  don't  hate  you,"  replied  the 
doctor,  in  a  colorless  tone.  "Do  you  believe  in 
palmistry?"  he  asked,  suddenly. 

"No!"  said  Maurice,  promptly, 

"All  rubbish!"  added  the  major,  selecting  a  fresh 
cigar. 

"What  do  you  say,  Mr.  Sarby?"  asked  Etwald,, 
turning  to  the  lawyer. 

' '  I  am  a  skeptic,  4i^o, ' '  said  David,  with  a  laugh. 
"And  you?" 

"I  am  a  believer." 

Here  Etwald  rose  and  crossed  over  to  where 
Maurice  was  sitting.  The  young  man,  guessing 
his  errand,  held  out  his  left  hand  with  a  smile. 
Etwald  scrutinized  it  closely,  and  returned  to  his 
seat. 

"Life  in  death!"  he  said  calmly.  "Read  that 
riddle,  Mr.  Alymer.     Life  in  death." 


tH£  ASHANTCiE  DE^VIL-STlCK.  15 


CHAPTER   II. 
THE  ASHANTEE  DEVIL-STICK. 

"Life  in  death!"  repeated  Maurice,  in  puzzled 
tones.  "And  what  do  you  mean  by  that  mystical 
jargon,  doctor?" 

"Ah,  my  friend,  there  comes  in  the  riddle." 

"Paralysis?"  suggested  David,  in  a  jesting  man- 
ner, but  with  some  seriousness. 

"No;  that  is  not  the  answer." 

"Catalepsy?"    guessed    Major    Jen,    giving    his 
mustache  a  nervous  twist. 
■    "Nor  that,  either." 

Maurice,  whose  nerves  were  proof  against  such 
fantasies,  laughed  disbelieyingly. 

"I  don't  believe  you  know  the  answer  to  your 
own  riddle,"  he  said  calmly. 

Etwald  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"I  don't  know  for  certain,  Mr.  Alymer,  but  I  can 
guess." 

"Tell  us  your  guess,  doctor;  as  it  interests  me  so 
nearly,  I  have  a  right  to  know. ' 

"Bad  news  comes  quickly  enough  in  the  telling," 
said  the  doctor,  judicially,  "so  I  shall  say  nothing 
more.  Life  in  death  is  your  fate,  Mr.  Alymer; 
unless,"  he  added,  with  a  swift  and  penetrating 
glance,  "you  choose  to  avert  the  calamity." 


i6  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

"Can  I  do  so?" 

"Yes,  and  in  an  easy  manner.  Never  get 
married." 

Maurice  flushed  crimson,  and,  resenting  the 
mocking  tone  of  Etwald,  half  rose  from  his  seat ;  but 
without  moving  a  finger,  Etwald  continued  in  a  cold 
tone: 

"You  are  in  love  with  a  young  lady,  and  you  wish 
to  marry  her!" 

"Quite  right,  quite  right!"  broke  in  Major  Jen, 
heartily.     "I  want  Maurice  to  marry." 

"Then  you  want  him  to  meet  his  fate  of  life  in 
death!"  said  Etwald,  curtly. 

The  others  stared  at  him,  and  with  the  skepticism 
of  thoroughly  healthy  minds  refused  to  attach  much 
importance  to  Etwald's  mysticism.  Jen  was  the 
first  to  speak,  and  he  did  so  in  rather  a  stiff  way, 
quite  different  from  his  usual  jovial  style  of  con- 
versation. 

"My  dear  Etwald,  if  I  did  not  know  you  so  well, 
I  should  take  you  for  a  charlatan." 

"I  am  no  charlatan,  major,"  rejoined  Etwald, 
coolly.     "I  ask  no  money  for  my  performance. " 

"So  it  is  a  performance,  after  all?"  said  David, 
carelessly. 

"If  you  choose  to  call  it  so.  Only  I  repeat  my 
warning  to  Mr.  Alymer.     Never  get  married." 

Maurice  laughed. 

"I  am  afraid  it  is  too  late  for  me  to  take  your 
advice,  doctor,"  he  said,  merrily.     "I  am  in  love." 

"I  know  you  are,  and  I  admire  your  taste." 


THE  ASHANTEE  DEVIL-STICK.  17 

"Pardon  me,  doctor,"  said  Maurice,  stiffly.  "I 
mention  no  names." 

"Neither  do  I,  but  I  think  of  one  name,  my 
friend. ' ' 

Here  David,  who  had  been  fidgetting  with  his 
cigar,  broke  in  impatiently. 

"Now  you  are  making  a  mystery  out  of  a  plain, 
common-sense  question,"  he  said,  irritably.  "We 
all  know  that  Maurice  is  in  love,"  here  he  raised  his 
eyes  suddenly,  and  looked  keenly  at  his  friend, 
"with  Lady  Meg  Brance." 

Major  Jen  chuckled  and  rubbed  his  hands  together 
in  a  satisfied  manner.  Etwald  bent  his  sombre 
looks  on  Maurice,  and  that  young  man,  biting  his 
lip,  took  up  the  implied  challenge  in  Sarby's 
remark,  and  answered  plainly : 

"I  am  not  in  love  with  Lady  Meg,  my  dear  fel- 
low," said  he,  sharply;  "but  if  you  must  know,  I 
admire" — this  with  emphasis — "Miss  Dallas." 

The  brow  of  Sarby  grew  black,  and  in  his  turn  he 
rose  to  his  feet. 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  it  is  only  'admire,'  "  he 
remarked,  slowly,  "for  had  the  word  been  any 
other  I  should  have  resented  it." 

"You!  And  upon  what  grounds?"  cried  Alymer, 
flushing  out  in  a  rage. 

"That  is  my  business." 

"And mine,  too,"  said  Maurice,  hotly.  "Isabella 
is—" 

"I  forbid  you  to  call  Miss  Dallas  by  that  name," 
declared  David,  in  an  overbearing  manner. 


l8  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

"You — you — you  forbid  me!" 

"Come,  come,  boys  I"  said  Jen,  annoyed  at  this 
scene  between  two  hot-headed  young  men,  who  were 
not  yet  gifted  with  the  self-restraint  of  experience. 

"Don't  talk  like  this.  You  are  at  my  table. 
There  is  a  stranger"  (here  he  bowed  ceremoniously 
to  Etwald)  "or  shall  I  say  a  friend,  present!" 

"Say  a  friend,"  observed  Etwald,  calmly, 
"although  I  am  about  to  say  that  which  may  cause 
these  two  young  gentlemen  to  look  upon  me  as  an 
enemy." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Maurice,  turning  his 
still  frowning  face  toward  this  strange  and  enig- 
matic man. 

"What  I  say,  Mr.  Aljrmer!  You — admire  Miss 
Dallas?" 

"Why  bring  her  name  into  the  question?  Yes,  I 
admire  Miss  Dallas." 

"And  you,  Mr.  Sarby,  I  can  tell  from  your  atti- 
tude, from  your  look ;  you  love  Miss  Dallas. ' ' 

David  was  taken  aback  by  this  strange  speaking. 

"Yes.     I— I— I  do  love  Miss  Dallas. " 

"I  guessed  as  much,"  resumed  Etwald,  with  a 
cold  smile.     "Now,  it  is  strange — " 

"It  is  strange  that  a  lady's  name  should  be  thus 
introduced,"  said  Jen,  annoyed  at  the  tone  of  the 
conversation.  "Let  us  drop  the  subject.  Another 
cigar,  Maurice.  David,  the  wine  is  with  you.  Dr. 
Etwald—" 

"One  moment,  major.  I  wish  we  three  to 
understand  one  another" — here  the  doctor  hesitated, 


THE  ASHAXTEE  DE\aL-STICK.  19 

then  went  on  in  an  impressive  voice — "about  Miss 
Dallas!" 

"Why  do  you  speak  of  her?"  asked  Maurice, 
fiercely,  while  David  looked  loweringly  at  Etwald. 

"Because  I  love  her  I" 

"You  love  her!" 

The  two  young^  men  burst  out  simultaneously 
with  the  speech  in  tones  of  sheer  astonishment,  and 
stared  at  Etwald  as  at  some  strangle  animaL  That  this 
elderly  man — Etwald  was  midway  between  thirty 
and  forty,  but  that  looked  elderly  to  these  boys  of 
twenty-five — should  dare  to  love  Isabella  Dallas, 
was  a  thing  unheard  of.  She  so  young,  so  beauti- 
ful, so  full  of  divine  youth  and  dix'ifier  womanhood; 
he  so  sombre,  pale  and  worn  with  intellectual 
vigils;  vs-ith  a  mysterious  past,  a  doubtful  present 
and  a  problematic  future. 

Maurice  and  David,  divided  one  against  the  other 
by  their  passion  for  the  same  woman,  united  in  a 
feeling  of  rage  and  contempt  against  this  interloper, 
who  dared  to  make  a  third  in  their  worship  of 
Isabella.  They  looked  at  Etwald,  they  looked  at 
one  another,  and  finally  both  began  to  laugh.  Jen 
frowned  at  the  sound  of  their  mirth,  but  Etwald,  in 
nowise  discomposed,  sat  unsmiling  in  his  seat  wait- 
ing for  further  developments. 

"Oh,  it  is  too  absurd!"  said  Maurice,  resuming 
his  seat. 

"Why?" 

Etwald  put  the  question  with  the  greatest  calm- 
ness, stared  steadily  at  the  young  man,  and  waited 


20  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

for  the  reply,  which  he  knew  would  be  difficult  to 
make. 

* '  Oh,  because — ^because — ' ' 

"Never  mind  explaining,  Mr.  Alymer.  I  can 
guess  your  objection.  I  am  too  old,  too  plain,  too 
poor  for  this  charming  young  lady.  You,  on  the 
contrary,  are  young,  passing  well  off,  and  handsome 
— all  the  gifts  of  fortune  are  on  your  side.  Decid- 
edly," added  the  doctor,  "you  hold  the  best  hand. 
Well,  we  shall  see  who  will  win  this  game — as  we 
may  call  it." 

"And  what  about  me?"  said  David.  "You  forget 
that  I  am  a  third  player.  Come,  Etwald,  you  have 
prophesied  about  Maurice;  now  read  my  fate." 

"No,"  said  Etwald,  rising.  "We  have  talked 
long  enough  on  this  subject.  It  is  plain  that  we 
three  men  are  in  love  with  the  same  woman.  You 
can't  blame  me,  nor  I  you.  Miss  Dallas  is  a 
sufficiently  beautiful  excuse  for  our  madness.  I 
spoke  out  simply  because  I  want  you  both  to  under- 
stand the  position.  You  are  warned,  and  we  can 
now  do  battle  for  the  smiles  of  this  charming  lady. 
Let  the  best  man  win!" 

' '  Nothing  could  be  fairer  than  that, ' '  said  Jen, 
quickly;  "but  I  agree  with  you,  doctor,  that  the 
subject  has  been  sufficiently  discussed;  but,  indeed, 
if  you  will  pardon  me  saying  so,  it  should  have 
never  been  begim.     Let  us  go  to  the  smoking-room. ' ' 

Thither  the  three  young  men  went  in  the  wake  of 
the  major.  It  was  a  comfortable  room,  with  one 
wide  window,  which  at  the  present  moment  was 


THE  ASHANTEE  DEVIL-STICK.  21 

open.  Outside,  the  light  of  the  newly-risen  moon 
bathed  lawn  and  trees  and  flowers  in  a  flood  of 
cold  silver;  and  the  warm  radiance  of  the  lamp 
poured  out  rays  of  gold  into  the  wonderful  white 
world  without.  The  three  men  sat  down  in  com- 
fortable chairs,  and  the  major  went  to  get  out  a  par- 
ticular brand  of  cigars  which  he  offered  to  favored 
guests. 

Self-contained  as  ever,  Etwald  looked  up  at  the 
wall  near  him,  and  seemed  to  be  considering  a 
decoration  of  savage  arms,  which  looked  barbaric 
and  wild,  between  two  oil-paintings.  When  Jen 
came  back  with  the  cigars,  his  gaze  followed  that  of 
his  guest,  and  he  made  a  remark  about  the  weapons. 

"All  those  came  from  Ashantee  and  the  West 
Coast  of  Africa, ' '  said  he,  touching  a  vicious-look- 
ing axe.  "This  is  a  sacrificial  axe;  this  murderous 
looking  blade  is  the  sword  of  the  executioner  of 
King  Koffee;  and  this,"  here  he  laid  his  fingers 
lightly  upon  a  slender  stick  of  green  wood,  with  a 
golden  top  set  roughly  with  large  turquoise  stones, 
"is  a  poison-wand!" 

"A poison-wand!"  echoed  Etwald,  a  sudden  light 
showing  in  his  cold  eyes.  "I  never  heard  of  such  a 
thing." 

David,  who  was  watching  him,  felt  an  instinctive 
feeling  that  Etwald  was  telling  a  lie.  He  saw  that 
the  man  could  hardly  keep  his  seat  for  his  eagerness 
to  examine  and  handle  the  strange  weapon.  How- 
ever, he  said  nothing,  but  watched  and  watched, 
when  Maurice  made  a  remark  about  the  stick. 


22  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

"Oh,  that  is  Uncle  Jen's  greatest  treasure,"  he 
said,  smiling.  "He  can  tell  twenty  stories  about 
that  innocent-looking  cane." 

"Innocent-looking!"  echoed  Jen,  taking  down  the 
green  wand.  "How  can  you  say  such  a  thing? 
Look  here,  Etwald, ' '  and  he  laid  the  stick  on  the 
table.  "No,  don't  touch  it,  man,"  he  added, 
hastily,  "there  is  plenty  of  venom  in  it  yet.  'Tis  as 
dangerous  as  a  snake  bite.  If  you  touch  this  slender 
iron  spike  projecting  from  the  end,  you  die!" 

Again  David  noted  that  the  tigerish  light  leaped 
up  in  the  eyes  of  Etwald,  but  he  had  sufficient  con- 
trol of  his  features  to  preserve  a  look  of  courteous 
curiosity.  He  carefully  handled  and  examined  the 
instrument  of  death. 

It  was  a  little  over  a  foot  long,  of  a  hard-looking 
green  wood ;  the  handle  of  gold  was  coarsely  molded 
in  a  barbaric  fashion  round  the  turquoise  stones, 
and  these,  of  all  hues,  from  green  to  the  palest  of 
blue,  were  imbedded  like  lumps  of  quartz  in  the 
rough  gold.  Round  this  strange  implement  there 
lingered  a  rich  and  heavy  perfume,  sickly  and 
sensuous. 

"See here!"  said  Jen,  pressing  or  rather  squeezing 
the  handle.  I  tighten  my  grip  upon  this,  and  the 
sting  of  the  serpent  shows  itself!"  Whereupon 
Etwald  glanced  at  the  end  of  the  wood  and  saw  a 
tiny  needle  of  iron  push  itself  out.  When  Jen 
relaxed  his  pressure  on  the  gold  handle,  this  iron 
tongue  slipped  back  and  disappeared  entirely. 

"I  got  this  at  Kumassie, "  explained  Jen,  when  he 


THE  ASHANTEE  DEVIL  STICK.  23 

had  fully  exhibited  the  grewsome  mechanism  of 
the  devil-stick.  "It  belonged  to  the  high  priest. 
Whenever  he  or  the  king  disliked  any  man  who  was 
too  powerful  to  be  openly  slain,  they  used  this 
wand.  What  excuse  they  made  I  don't  know,  but  I 
suppose  it  had  something  to  do  with  fetish  worship. 
However,  the  slightest  touch  of  this  needle  produces 
death. ' ' 

"It  is  poisoned  at  the  tip?" 

"Not  exactly.  The  needle  within  is  hollow,  and 
a  store  of  poison  is  contained  in  the  handle  up  here. 
When  squeezed  these  turquoise  stones  press  a  bag 
within  and  the  poison  runs  down  to  the  point  of  the 
needle.  In  fact,  the  whole  infernal  contrivance  is 
modeled  upon  a  serpent's  fang." 

"But  it  is  quite  harmless  now,"  said  David,  as 
Jen  replaced  the  wand  in  its  old  place  on.the  wall. 
"Else  you  wouldn't  have  it  there. " 

"Well,  no  doubt  the  poison  has  dried  up,"  said 
Jen,  with  a  nod.  "All  the  same,  I  shouldn't  like 
to  prick  myself  with  that  needle.  I  might  die," 
finished  the  major,  with  the  naive  simplicity  of  a 
child. 

"You  may  break,  you  may  shatter  the  vase  as  you  will, 
But  the  scent  of  the  roses  wiH  cling  round  it  still" — 

quoted  Maurice,  with  a  laugh.  "No  doubt  the 
devil-stick  can  still  do  harm.  Ugh !  What  a  grew- 
some idea.  I'd  remove  it  from  so  conspicuous  a 
position  if  I  were  you,  Uncle  Jen ;  someone  might 
come  to  grief  over  it." 


24  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

"Rubbish,  my  boy.  It  has  been  hanging  on  the 
wall  for  years,  and  has  never  hurt  anyone  yet!" 

Etwald  said  nothing.  With  his  eyes  fixed  upon 
the  devil-stick,  he  meditated  deeply.  The  barrister, 
whose  belief  was  that  Etwald  knew  more  about  the 
wand  than  he  chose  to  say,  watched  him  closely. 
He  noticed  that  the  doctor  eyed  the  stick,  then, 
after  a  pause,  let  his  gaze  wander  to  the  face  of 
Maurice.  Another  pause,  and  he  was  looking  at 
David,  who  received  the  fire  of  this  strange  man's 
eyes  without  blanching. 

There  was  something  so  mesmeric  in  the  gaze  that 
David  felt  uncomfortable  and  as  though  he  were 
enveloped  in  an  evil  atmosphere.  To  his  surprise 
he  found  that  his  eyes  also  were  attracted  to  the 
devil-stick,  and  a  longing  to  handle  it  began  to 
possess  him.  Clearly  Etwald  was  tr)'ing  to  hypno- 
tize him  for  some  evil  purpose.  By  an  effort  of  will 
David  broke  through  these  nightmare  chains  and 
rose  to  his  feet.  The  next  moment  he  was  in  the 
open  air,  in  the  cold  moonlight,  breathing  hard  and 
fast. 

Within,  Maurice  and  the  major  were  talking  gaily, 
and  the  sound  of  their  voices  and  laughter  came 
clearly  to  the  ears  of  David.  But  silent  in  his  deep 
chair  sat  Etwald,  and  the  burning  glance  of  his  eyes 
seemed  to  beam  menacingly  through  the  air  and 
compel  the  young  man  to  evil  thoughts.  David 
looked  at  Etwald,  dark  and  voiceless ;  and  over  his 
head,  in  the  yellow  lamplight,  he  saw  the  glittering 
golden  handle  of  the  devil-stick. 


DIDO.  25 


CHAPTER    III. 

DIDO. 

Some  little  distance  from  the  major's  abode  stood 
a  long,  low  rambling  house  on  a  slight  rise.  Sur- 
rounded by  deep  verandas,  it  was  placed  in  the 
middle  of  emerald  green  lawns,  smoothly  clipped; 
and  these,  lower  down,  were  girdled  by  a  belt  of 
ash  and  sycamores  and  poplars,  which  shut  out  the 
house  from  the  high  road. 

The  mansion,  with  its  flat  roof  and  wide  veran- 
das, had  a  tropical  look,  and  indeed  it  had  been 
built  by  a  retired  Indian  nabob  at  the  beginning  of 
this  century.  When  he  died  the  house  had  been 
sold,  and  now  it  was  occupied  by  Mrs.  Dallas, 
who  leased  it  because  of  its  suggestion  of  tropical 
habitation.  She  came  from  the  West  Indies,  and 
had  lived  in  "The  Wigwam,"  as  the  house  was 
called,  for  over  ten  years. 

Mrs.  Dallas  was  a  large,  fat  and  eminently  lazy 
woman,  who  passed  most  of  her  time  in  knitting  or 
sleeping  or  eating.  Her  husband  had  died  before 
she  had  come  to  England,  and  it  was  the  desire  to 
preserve  her  daughter's  health  which  had  brought 
her  so  far  from  the  sun-baked  islands  which  her 
soul  loved. 

Her  languid  Creole  nature  and  lethargic  habits 


26  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

were  unsuited  to  brisk,  practical  England,  and  she 
hated  the  gray  skies,  the  frequent  absence  of  sun- 
light and  the  lack  of  rich  and  sensuous  coloring. 
Often  she  threatened  to  return  to  Barbadoes,  but  she 
was  too  lazy  to  make  the  effort  of  again  settling 
herself  in  life.  With  all  her  longings  for  the  fairy 
islands  of  the  West,  it  seemed  as  though  she  would 
end  her  days  in  gray  and  misty  England.  But  she 
was  out  of  place  in  this  northern  land,  and  so  was 
Dido. 

This  latter  was  a  tall  and  massively  framed  negro 
woman,  with  very  little  of  the  traditional  merry 
nature  of  the  black  about  her.  She  looked  rather 
like  a  priestess,  with  her  stern  face  and  stately  mien ; 
and,  indeed,  in  the  West  Indies,  it  was  known 
among  the  negroes  that  Dido  was  high  in  power 
among  the  votaries  of  Obi.  She  could  charm,  she 
could  slay  by  means  of  vegetable  poisons,  and  she 
could — as  the  negroes  firmly  believed — cause  a 
human  being  to  dwindle,  peak  and  pine,  by  means 
of  incantations. 

This  black  Canidia  had  left  a  terrible  reputation 
behind  her  in  Barbadoes;  and  though  in  skeptical 
England  her  powers  were  unknown,  and  if  they 
had  been  made  manifest,  would  have  been  flouted 
at,  yet  her  looks,  the  tragic  tones  of  her  voice, 
inspired  the  white  servants  of  Mrs.  Dallas  with  dis- 
trust. Dido  was  not  a  favorite  in  the  servants'  part 
of  The  Wigwam,  but  for  this  unpopularity  she  cared 
little,  being  devoted  to  Isabella  Dallas.  She  adored 
her  nursling. 


DIDO.  27 

The  girl  was  about  twenty  years  of  age,  tall  and 
straight,  with  dark  hair  and  darker  eyes,  with  a 
mouth  veritably  like  Cupid's  bow,  and  a  figure 
matchless  in  contour.  With  her  rich  southern 
coloring  and  passionate  temperament — she  was  of 
Irish  blood  on  the  paternal  side — Miss  Dallas  looked 
more  like  an  Andalusian  lady  than  a  native  of  the 
English-speaking  race.  She  had  all  the  sensuous 
loveliness  of  a  Creole  woman;  and  bloomed  like  a 
rich  tropical  flower  with  poison  in  its  perfume  amid 
the  English  briar  roses  of  Surrey  maidenhood. 

If  Mrs.  Dallas  was  a  bore — and  her  friends  said 
she  was — the  daughter  was  divine,  and  many  young 
men  came  to  The  Wigwam  to  be  spellbound  by  her 
dark  beauty.  More  men  than  the  three  who  had 
dined  at  "Ashantee"  were  in  love  with  Isabella. 

Upon  her  Dido  exercised  a  powerful,  and  it  must 
be  confessed,  malignant  influence.  She  had  fed  the 
quick  brain  of  the  girl  with  weird  tales  of  African 
witchcraft  and  fanciful  notions  of  terrestrial  and 
sidereal  influences.  Isabella's  nature  was  warped 
by  this  domestic  necromancy,  and  had  she  con- 
tinued to  dwell  in  the  West  Indies,  she  might  almost 
have  become  a  witch  herself.  Certainly  Dido  did 
her  best  to  make  her  one,  and  taught  her  nursling 
spells  and  incantations,  to  which  the  girl  would 
listen  fearfully,  half-believing,  half-doubting. 
But  her  residence  in  England,  her  contact  with 
practical  English  folk,  with  the  sunny  side  of  life, 
saved  her  from  falling  into  the  terrible  abyss  of 
African  superstition ;  and  how  terrible  it  is  only  the 


28  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

initiated  can  declare.  It  only  needed  that  she 
should  be  removed  from  the  bad  influence  of  the 
barbaric  Sybil  to  render  her  nature  healthy  and 
fill  her  life  with  pleasure. 

But  Dido  was  like  a  upas  tree,  and  the  moral 
atmosphere  with  which  she  surrounded  Isabella 
was  slowly  but  surely  making  the  girl  morbid  and 
unnatural.  Mrs.  Dallas,  versed  in  the  negro  char- 
acter, half-guessed  this,  but  she  was  too  indolent  to 
have  Dido  removed.  Moreover,  strange  as  it  may 
appear,  she  was  more  than  a  trifle  afraid  of  the 
negress  and  her  unholy  arts. 

Maurice  had  met  with  and  had  fallen  in  love 
with  Isabella,  and  she  returned  his  affection  with 
all  the  ardor  of  her  passionate  nature.  His  hand- 
some and  frank  face,  his  sunny  nature  and  optimistic 
ideas  appealed  strongly  to  the  girl  who  had  been 
environed  from  her  earliest  infancy  by  the  pessi- 
mism of  Dido. 

Maurice  saw  well  how  Isabella  had  deteriorated 
under  the  bad  influence  of  the  negress,  and  he  did 
his  best  to  counteract  her  insidious  morality  and 
morbid  teachings.  He  laughed  at  Isabella's  stories 
and  superstitions,  and  succeeded  in  making  her 
ashamed  of  her  weakness  in  placing  faith  in  such 
degraded  rubbish.  While  with  him  Isabella  was  a 
bright  and  laughing  girl ;  quite  another  sort  of  being 
to  the  grave  and  nervous  creature  she  was  while  in 
the  presence  of  Dido.  She  felt  that  if  she  married 
Maurice  his  bright  strong  nature  would  save  her 
from  a  lamentable  and  melancholy  existence;  and 


DIDO.  29 

as  all  her  affections  and  instincts  inclined  to  the 
young  man,  she  hoped  to  become  his  wife. 

Dido  saw  her  thoughts,  and  hating  Maurice  as  one 
who  scoffed  at  Obi,  she  did  her  best  to  put  evil 
ideas  in  the  girl's  head  concerning  the  young 
man.  But  as  yet  she  had  failed  to  sow  dissension 
between  the  lovers. 

On  the  day  after  the  major's  dinner  party,  Isabella 
was  sitting  in  the  veranda  with  a  book  open  on  her 
lap  and  Dido  standing  gravely  near  her.  Mrs. 
Dallas,  in  the  cool  depths  of  the  drawing-room,  was 
indulging  in  an  after-luncheon  siesta.  The  sun- 
light poured  itself  over  the  velvet  lawns,  drew  forth 
the  perfumes  from  the  flower-beds,  and  made  the 
earth  languorous  with  heat. 

In  the  veranda  all  was  cool  and  restful  and  pleas- 
ingly silent.  Isabella,  in  her  white  dress,  looked 
beautiful  and  pensive;  while  Dido,  in  a  reddish- 
hued  robe,  with  a  crimson  'kerchief  twisted  round 
her  stately  head,  gleamed  in  the  semi-gloom  like 
some  gorgeous  tropical  bird  astray  in  our  northern 
climes.     Both  mistress  and  maid  were  silent. 

It  was  Dido  who  spoke  first.  She  noticed  that 
the  eyes  of  her  mistress  constantly  strayed  in  the 
direction  of  "Ashantee, "  and  with  the  jealousy 
begotten  of  deep  affection,  she  guessed  that  the 
girl's  thoughts  were  fixed  upon  the  much-hated 
Maurice.  At  once  she  spoke  reproachfully,  and  in 
the  grotesque  negro  dialect,  which,  however,  com- 
ing from  Dido's  mouth,  inspired  no  one  with  merri- 
ment. 


30  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

"Aha,  missy,"  said  she,  in  deep,  guttural  tones, 
"you  tink  ob  dat  yaller-ha'r'd  man!" 

"Maurice!  Yes,  I  am  thinking  about  him;  and 
you  know  why." 

Dido's  fierce  black  eyes  flashed  out  a  gleam  of 
rage,  and  she  cursed  Maurice  audibly  in  some  bar- 
baric tongue  which  Isabella  seemed  to  understand. 
At  all  events  she  interrupted  the  woman's  speech 
with  an  imperious  gesture. 

"No  more  of  that.  Dido.  You  know  that  I  love 
Maurice;  I  wish  to  marry  him.  Why  are  you  so 
bitter  against  him?" 

"He  take  you  from  me." 

"Well,  if  I  marry  anyone  the  same  thing  will 
happen,"  responded  Isabella,  lightly;  "and  surely. 
Dido;  you  do  not  want  me  to  remain  a  spinster  all 
my  life." 

"No,  missy,  no.  You  marry,  an'  ole  Dido  am 
berry  pleased.  But  dat  yaller-ha'r'd  man,  I  no 
like  him ;  if  he  marry  you,  he  take  you  away.  He 
a  fool — a  big  fool!" 

"Oh,  you  say  that  because  he  does  not  believe  in 
Obi  or  Voodoo!" 

Dido  threw  up  one  dark  hand  with  an  ejaculation. 

"Not  in  de  sunlight;  dose  am  de  names  for  de 
darkness,  honey.     In  de  night  dey — " 

"No,  no!"  cried  Isabella,  with  a  shudder.  "Don't 
tell  me  any  more  of  those  horrible  things. " 

"Aha,»  dat  de  yaller-ha'r  who  makes  you 
fear!"  cried  Dido,  bitterly.  "He  hate  Obi  an'  me. 
He  will  not  marry' you,  missy!" 


t)IDO.  31 

"Yes  he  will;  we  are  engaged." 

"Your  miidder,  she  say  no!" 

"Nonsense!  She  likes  Maurice  herself,"  replied 
Isabella,  uneasily.  "Maurice  wants  our  engage- 
ment kept  quiet  for  the  present,  but  when  I  do  tell 
Major  Jen  and  my  mother,  I  am  sure  neither  of 
them  will  object." 

"H'm,  we  see,  missy,  we  see,"  said  Dido, 
darkly.     "But  why  you  marry  dis  man  I  no  like?" 

"Because  I  marry  to  please  myself,  not  you," 
said  Isabella,  sharply.  "Oh,  I  know  your  thoughts. 
Dido;  you  would  like  me  to  marry  David  Sarby. 
The  idea;  as  if  he  can  compare  with  Maurice!" 

"Wrong,  missy.     I  no  wish  dat  man." 

"Then  Dr.  Etwald — that  horrid,  gloomy  crea- 
tiire!" 

"Him  great  man!"  said  Dido,  solemnly.  "Him 
berry — berry  great ! ' ' 

"I  don't  think  so,"  retorted  Isabella,  rising.  "Of 
course,  I  know  that  he  is  clever,  but  as  to  being 
great,  he  isn't  known  beyond  this  place."  She 
walked  to  the  end  of  the  veranda,  and  stood  for  a 
moment  in  the  glare  of  the  sunshine.  Suddenly 
an  idea  seemed  to  strike  her,  and  she  turned 
toward  the  negress. 

"Dido,  you  wouldn't  like  to  see  me  the  wife  of 
Dr.  Etwald?" 

"Yes,  missy.     Him  berry  big  great  man!" 

"But  I  hate  him!" 

"Um!     He  lub  you.     He  told  ole  Dido  so." 

* '  He  seems  to  have  been  very  confidential, ' '  said 


32  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

Isabella,  scornfully,  "and  from  what  I  have  seen, 
Dido,  he  has  some  influence  over  you." 

"No,"  said  the  negress.  But  while  her  tong-ue 
uttered  the  denial,  her  eyes  rolled  uneasily  around 
the  lawn,  as  though  dreading  some  invisible  pres- 
ence. "No,  missy.  Dido  a  great  one,  you  know. 
She  no  'fraid  ob  dat  doctor;  but  him  big  man, 
missy;  you  marry  him." 

"No,  no,  no!  I  would  rather  die.  I  love 
Maurice. ' ' 

'  *  You  nebber  marry  him,  missy.  Nebber,  nebber ! ' ' 

"How  do  you  know?" 

"I  make  de  spell.  I  know.  De  spell  say  dat 
doctor,  he  marry  you!" 

This  time  Isabella  burst  out  into  a  girlish  laugh  of 
genuine  amusement. 

"The  spell  seems  to  know  more  about  me  than  I 
do  myself,"  said  she,  contemptuously.  "I  don't 
believe  in  your  spells,  Dido.  I  know  from  Maurice 
that  they  are  nonsense!" 

"You take  care,  missy!  Obi!  dat  not  nonsense ! " 
said  Dido,  in  a  threatening  tone. 

"What  does  Dr.  Etwald  say  about  it?" 

Dido  looked  sullenly  at  the  fire. 

"I  no  hear  him  say  anytink  about  Obi,"  she 
replied;  "but  de  spell;  it  .say  you  marry  dat  man 
and  no  de  yaller-ha'  r. ' ' 

"Well,  Dido,  we  shall  see.     And  now — " 

She  never  finished  what  she  was  about  to  say,  for 
at  that  moment  Dido  stretched  out  one  arm,  and 
uttered  one  name, "Batt* sea!" 


DIDO.  33 

Across  the  lawn  there  crept  a  wizen,  gray-haired 
little  man,  with  a  cringing  manner.  He  was  white, 
but  darkish  in  the  skin,  and  there  was  something 
negroid  about  his  face.  This  dwarfish  little  creature 
was  a  tramp,  who  had  become  a  pensioner  of  Isa- 
bella's. He  had  attached  himself  to  her  like  some 
faithful  dog,  and  rarely  failed  to  present  himself  at 
least  once  a  day. 

What  his  real  name  was  nobody  knew,  but  he  said 
that  he  was  called  Battersea,  after  the  parish  in 
which  he  had  been  reared  as  a  foundling. 

Battersea  was  cringing,  dirty,  and  altogether  an 
unpleasant  object  to  look  upon;  but  Isabella  was 
sorry  for  the  creature,  and  aided  him  with  food  and 
a  trifle  of  money.  It  may  be  here  mentioned  that 
Battersea,  although  he  knew  nothing  of  Obi,  was 
terribly  afraid  of  Dido.  Perhaps  some  instinct  in 
the  negro  blood — for  he  undoubtedly  had  some- 
thing African  in  his  veins — made  him  fear  this 
unknown  priestess  of  fetish  worship. 

"Well,  Battersea,"  said  Isabella,  kindly,  "how 
are  yovi  to-day?' ' 

"Very  well,  lady,  very  well,  indeed.  I  met  Mr. 
Alymer,  and  he  gave  me  half  a  crown." 

"That  was  generous  of  him.     But  why?" 

"Because  I  said  that  a  certain  lady  was — " 

"Now,  now,"  laughed  Isabella,  "no  more  of  that 
nonsense,  Battersea."  She  turned  and  ran  along 
the  veranda  into  the  house.  The  tramp  and  the 
negress  were  alone. 


34  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

"What  de  doctor  say?"  asked  Dido,  in  a  low-voiced 
whisper. 

"Two  words.     The  devil-stick!"  ^ 

The  negress  started  and  threw  up  her  hands  in 
surprise. 


VOODOO! VOODOO!  35 


CHAPTER    IV. 
VOODOO!    VOODOO! 

Evidently  there  was  an  understanding  between 
these  two  strange  creatures,  and  thereby  an  occult 
connection  with  the  ideas  and  doings  of  Dr.  Etwald. 
What  the  trio  were  plotting  against  Isabella  and  her 
lover  remains  to  be  seen;  but  it  can  be  guessed 
easily  that  the  message  of  the  devil-stick  carried  by 
Battersea  to  Dido  was  of  some  significance. 

Battersea  himself  knew  nothing  of  its  esoteric 
meaning,  but  to  the  negress  the  mention  of  the 
emblem  conveyed  a  distinct  understanding.  She 
let  her  arms  fall  listlessly  by  her  side,  and,  with  an 
unseeing  gaze,  she  stared  at  the  green  trees  bathed 
in  hot  sunshine.  After  a  moment  or  so  she  muttered 
to  herself  in  negro  jargon  and  clenched  her  hands. 

"Baal!  the  wand  of  sleep!  the  bringer  of  death!" 

"What  are  you  saying,  Dido?"  asked  Battersea, 
his  feeble  intellect  scared  by  the  fierce  gestures  and 
the  unknown  tongue. 

"I  say  deep  things  which  you  no  understan*. 
Look  at  ole  Dido,  you  white  man, ' ' 

Battersea  whimpered,  and,  rubbing  one  dirty 
hand  over  the  other,  did  as  he  was  requested  with 
manifest  unwillingness.  With  an  intensity  of  gaze, 
Dido  glared  at  him  steadily,  and  swept  her  hands 


36  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

twice  or  thrice  across  his  face.  In  a  moment  or  st 
the  tramp  was  in  a  state  of  catalepsy,  and  she  made 
use  of  his  spell-bound  intelligence  to  gain  knowl- 
edge. There  was  something  terrible  in  her  infernal 
powers  being  thus  exercised  in  the  full  sunlight,  in 
the  incongruous  setting  of  a  homely  English  land- 
scape. 

' '  De  debble-stick !     Whar  is  it  ?' ' 

"In  the  house  of  Major  Jen.  In  a  little  room,  on 
the  wall,  with  swords  and  axes." 

As  he  said  this  in  a  monotonous  tone,  Dido  looked 
across  the  tree-tops  to  where  the  red  roofs  of 
"Ashantee"  showed  themselves  against  a  blue  July 
sky.  She  shook  her  fist  at  the  distant  house,  and 
again  addressed  herself  imperiously  to  Battersea, 
commanding: 

"Tell  ole  Dido  ob  de  debble-stick." 

"It  is  green,  with  a  handle  of  gold,  and  blue  stones 
set  into  the  gold." 

Dido  bent  forward  and  touched  the  tramp  on  his 
temples. 

"See  widin  dat  stick,"  she  muttered,  eagerly.  "I 
wish  to  see." 

"There  is  a  bag  in  the  handle, "  repeated  Battersea, 
with  an  effort.  "Under  the  bag  a  long  needle;" 
then  after  a  pause,  "the  needle  is  hollow." 

"Is  dere  poison  in  de  bag,  white  man?" 

"No,  the  poison  is  dried  up." 

"Is  dere  poison  in  de  hollow  ob  de  needle?" 

"No,"  said  Battersea  again.  "The  poison  is 
dried  up." 


VOODOO! VOODOO!  37 

At  this  moment  a  noise  in  the  house  disturbed 
Dido,  and  with  a  pass  or  two  she  released  Battersea 
from  the  hypnotic  spell.  He  started,  rubbed  his 
eyes,  and  looked  drowsily  at  the  tall  negress,  who 
had  resumed  her  impassive  attitude. 

"What  have  you  been  doing.  Dido?"  he  asked, 
stupidly. 

"Obi!"  was  the  brief  reply.  "You  hab  told  ole 
Dido  what  she  wish  about  de  debble-stick. " 

"The  devil-stick,"  repeated  the  tramp,  in  wide- 
eyed  surprise.  "S'elp  me,  I  don't  know  anything 
of  it.  Dr.  Etwald  met  me,  and  ses  he:  'You  go  to 
Miss  Dallas?'  and  I  ses,  'I  does;'  and  he  ses,  'You'll 
see  Dido,'  and  I  ses,  'I  will;'  and  he  ses,  'Say  to 
her  "Devil-stick,"  '  an'  I  ses,  'Right  y'are,  sir.'  But 
es  to  knowing — " 

"Dat  nuffin!"  said  Dido,  with  a  lordly  wave  of 
her  hand.  "I  black;  you  hab  de  black  blood  in 
youse  also.     I  mek  you  do  Obi.     Um!" 

"What's  Obi?  What's  you  torkin  of?"  asked 
Battersea,  rather  nervously.  'An'  ow  does  yeou 
know  I  hev  black  blood?" 

'  Obi  say  dat  to  me.     Your  mudder  black. ' ' 

'  Yah!"  cried  Battersea,  derisively.  "You're  out 
of  it  My  mother  white;  but  my  father — "  here  he 
hesitated,  and  then  resumed:  "Yes,  you're  right. 
Dido ;  my  father  was  a  negro !  A  Seedee  boy,  who 
was  ^  fireman  on  a  P.  and  O.  liner. ' ' 

"1  hab  seen  dat,"  replied  Dido,  nodding  her  head. 
"Blac-k  blood  in  youse,  an'  I  can  do  Obi  on  you.     I 


38  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

send  your  spirit  to  de  house  of  Massa  Jen.  You  tell 
me  ob  de  debble-stick." 

Battersea  drew  back  and  beg-an  to  whimper  again. 

"I  knows  es  you  wor  at  that  devilry,"  he  said, 
nervously.  "When  you  claps  your  eyes  on  me  I 
gets  afeard." 

"Dat's  so.  But  I  take  care  ob  you.  Now  get  to 
de  kitchen ;  dere  am  food  for  you. ' ' 

The  old  man's  eyes  brightened  in  anticipation  of 
a  feast,  and  he  shuffled  off  round  the  corner  as 
quickly  as  his  age  would  allow  him.  Dido  looked 
after  him  for  a  moment,  considering  the  message  he 
had  brought  from  Dr.  Etwald,  and  then  began  to 
think  of  the  devil-stick. 

She  knew  very  well  what  it  was,  for  her  grand- 
mother had  been  carried  off  as  a  slave  from  the  west 
coast  of  Africa,  and  knew  all  about  Ashantee  sorcery 
and  fetish  rites.  These  she  had  repeated  to  her 
granddaughter  Dido,  with  the  result  that  Dido, 
cherishing  these  recollections,  knew  exactly  how  to 
use  the  wand  of  sleep.  She  had  spoken  about  it  to 
Dr.  Etwald,  quite  ignorant  that  Jen  kept  one  as  a 
curiosity,  and  now  Etwald  had  intimated  through 
Battersea  that  he  wished  her  to  do  something  in 
connection  with  the  stick.  What  that  something 
might  be  Dido  at  the  present  moment  could  not 
guess. 

She  had  exerted  her  magnetic  and  hypnotic 
influence  over  Battersea,  not  that  she  wished  for  a 
detailed  description  of  the  wand,  for  already  she 
knew  its  appearance,  but  because  it  might  happen 


VOODOO!  VOODOO!  39 

that  it  would  be  necessary  to  use  the  tramp  for 
certain  purposes  connected  with  the  discovery  of 
secrets.  Dido  exercised  a  strong  influence  over  this 
weak  old  creature,  partially  on  account  of  his  half 
negro  blood  and  partially  because  she  had  terrified 
his  feeble  brain  by  her  dark  hints  of  Obi  worship. 

Battersea  was  supposed  to  be  a  Christian ;  but  the 
barbaric  fluid  in  his  veins  inclined  him  to  the  terrible 
grotesqueness  of  African  witchcraft,  and  Dido  and 
her  words  stirred  some  dim  instinct  in  his  mind. 
The  negress  saw  that  accident  had  placed  in  her 
way  a  helpless  creature  who  might  be  of  use  in  her 
necromantic  business ;  therefore,  by  hynotizing  him 
once  or  twice,  she  contrived  to  keep  him  within  her 
power.  All  of  which  fantasy  would  have  been 
denied  by  the  average  British  newspaper  reader, 
who  can  not  imagine  such  things  taking  place  in 
what  he  calls  euphoniously  a  Christian  land.  But 
this  happened,  for  all  his  denial. 

Having  dismissed  Battersea,  the  negress  turned 
to  seek  Isabella.  She  was  so  devoted  to  her  nurs- 
ling that  she  could  hardly  bear  to  be  away  from  her, 
and  since  her  infancy  Isabella  had  scarcely  been 
absent  an  hour  from  her  strange  attendant.  The 
girl  had  gone  into  the  drawing-room,  where  Mrs. 
Dallas  was  still  sleeping;  and  there,  relieved  for  the 
moment  from  the  prying  eyes  of  the  negress,  she 
took  a  letter  out  of  her  pocket.  It  was  from 
Maurice,  stating  that  he  was  coming  to  see  her  that 
afternoon  at  three  o'clock,  as  he  had  something 
particular  to  say. 


40  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

It  was  now  close  upon  the  hour,  and  Isabella  was 
wondering  how  she  could  get  rid  of  Dido,  whom  she 
did  not  wish  to  be  present  at  the  coming  interview. 
The  inborn  jealousy  of  the  woman,  and  her  advocacy 
of  Dr.  Etwald's  suit,  made  her  an  impleasant  third 
at  such  a  meeting.  Moreover,  Maurice  instinctively 
disliked  this  sullen  creature,  and  was  never  quite 
easy  in  her  presence. 

Finally,  Isabella  decided  to  slip  round  by  the  back 
of  the  house  and  meet  Maurice  at  the  gate.  Dido 
was  occupied  in  questioning  Battersea  about  the 
devil-stick  on  the  verandah.  So,  after  a  glance  to 
assure  herself  that  the  pair  were  in  earnest  conversa- 
tion, Isabella  put  on  a  straw  hat  and  ran  lightly 
away  to  sec  her  lover.  She  passed  out  by  a  side 
door,  danced  like  a  fairy  across  the  intervening 
space  of  lawn,  and  slipped  laughingly  into  the 
narrow  path  which  wound  through  the  wood  to  the 
avenue  near  the  gates. 

Just  as  she  emerged  into  the  open  she  heard  a 
sharp  click,  and  saw  Maurice  approaching.  He  was 
dressed  in  his  flannels,  and  looked  particularly 
handsome,  she  thought;  the  more  so  when  she 
beheld  his  face  lighting  up  at  her  unexpected  appear- 
ance. The  magnetism  of  love  drew  them  irresistibly 
together,  and  in  less  time  than  it  takes  to  write, 
Isabella  was  lying  on  the  broad  breast  of  her  lover 
and  he  was  fondly  kissing  her  lips, 

'  *  My  own  dear  love, ' '  he  murmured,  softly.  * '  How 
good  of  you  to  meet  me. ' ' 

"I  came  down  here  to  escape  Dido,"  explained 


VOODOO! VOODOO!  41 

Isabella,  slipping  her  hand  within  his.  "You 
don 't  like  her  to  be  with  us. ' ' 

"I  don't  like  her  in  any  case,  my  darling.  She  is 
like  a  black  shadow  of  evil  always  at  your  heels.  I 
must  get  your  mother  to  forbid  her  trespassing  upon 
our  meetings." 

* '  My  dear  Maurice,  how  can  you  possibly  do  that, 
when  you  refuse  to  tell  my  mother  of  our  engage- 
ment?" 

"Oh,  I  had  a  reason  for  keeping  our  engagement 
secret,  but  it  is  no  longer  necessary,  and  to-day — at 
this  moment — I  am  going  straight  to  ask  your 
mother  to  give  me  this  dear  hand  in  marriage.  If 
she  consents,  we  will  soon  get  rid  of  Dido." 

' '  But  my  mother  may  not  consent, ' '  said  Isabella, 
a  trifle  nervously. 

"Why  not?  I  have  a  profession  and  a  small 
property.  We  love  one  another  dearly,  so  I  don't 
see  what  grounds  she  has  for  refusal. ' ' 

"Dido!" 

"Well,  Dido  can  do  nothing,"  said  Maurice,  in  a 
jesting  tone,  "unless  you  want  her  to  forbid  the 
banns." 

"She  may  even  be  able  to  do  that,"  replied 
Isabella,  seriously.  "My  mother  is  afraid  of  her, 
and  is  often  influenced  in  her  decisions  by  Dido." 

"What,  the  black  witch?  Bah!  She  is  only  a 
servant. ' ' 

' '  She  is  something  more  than  that  in  Barbadoes. ' ' 

"Oh,  you  mean  that  Obi  rubbish,  my  dearest," 
said  Maurice,  slipping  his  arm  round  the  slender 


42  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

waist  of  the  girl.  "It  is  on  that  very  account 
that  I  wish  to  tell  your  mother  of  our  engage- 
ment, for  I  must  rescue  you  from  the  influence 
of   that   dark   Jezebel.     She  is  dangerous." 

"I  know  she  is;  but  she  hates  you." 

"I  don't  care  for  her  hate,"  replied  Maurice, 
carelessly.  "  It  is  a  poor  thing,  and  can  not  possibly 
harm  me.  But  I  mean  to  extricate  you  from  her 
toils,  and  I  don't  care  how  she  attempts  to 
prevent  our  marriage.  Surely  Mrs.  Dallas  will  not 
let  herself  be  guided  in  so  important  a  business  by 
the  will  and  feelings  of  that  black  wench, ' ' 

"My  mother  is  weak  where  Dido  is  concerned," 
said  Isabella,  shaking  her  head. 

"And  so  are  you,  my  dear,"  responded  Maurice, 
kissing  her.  "Both  of  you  are  weak  and  have 
yielded  up  your  wills  to  that  woman.  But  the 
announcement  of  our  engagement  will  give  me 
some  influence  in  the  house  and  do  away  with  all 
that.  It  will  be  a  fight  between  white  and  black 
magic,   and  I,  as  a  civilized  wizard,  intend  to  win." 

"Why  do  you  particularly  wish  to  announce  our 
engagement  to-day?" 

Maurice  grew  serious,  and  paused  at  the  top  of 
the  drive,  just  out  of  sight  of  the  house,  to  reply  to 
this  question, 

' '  My  dear  child, ' '  he  said  slowly,  * '  I  kept  our  engage- 
ment secret  on  account  of  David.  I  have  seen  fora  long 
time  that  he  loves  you,  and  knowing  his  fiery  temper, 
I  did  not  wish  to  provoke  a  quarrel  by  telling  him 
that  you  had  promised  to  be  my  wife.  But  last  night 


VOODOO!  VOODOO!  43 

the  truth  was  forced  from  me  at  dinner,  and  David 
declared  that  he  intended  to  ask  you  to  marry  him." 

"But  I  don't  love  him.     I  love  you!" 

"I  knew  that,  but  he  didn't.  He  knows  now  that 
we  love  one  another,  but  he  is  ignorant  that  we  are 
engaged.  When  the  fact  is  publicly  announced, 
he  may  give  up  his  idea  of  marrying  you,  and  so  a 
quarrel  may  be  averted." 

"Are  you  afraid  of  quarreling  with  him?" 

"Yes.  Not  on  my  account,  but  it  distresses  our 
good  major  to  see  us  at  variance.  We  nearly 
quarreled  over  you  last  night,  though,  upon  my 
word,"  added  the  young  man  half  to  himself,  "I 
believe  Etwald  promoted  the  row. ' ' 

"Etwald!"  repeated  Isabella.     "Dr.  Etwald?" 

"Yes;  he  is  in  love  with  you." 

"I  know  he  is,"  replied  the  girl,  quietly.  "But, 
of  course,  I  could  never  be  his  wife;  the  more  so,  as  I 
fear  him.     But  Dido  wishes  me  to  marry  him." 

"Oh,  hang  Dido!"  cried  Maurice,  vigorously.  "I 
wish  she  would  mind  her  own  business." 

At  this  moment,  as  if  summoned  by  his  remark, 
Dido  appeared  round  the  bend  of  the  path.  She 
looked  straight  before  her,  turning  neither  to  right 
nor  left,  and  passed  the  pair  like  one  in  a  sleeping 
fit.  The  negress  seemed  to  be  under  the 
influence  of  some  strange  excitement,  and  ran 
stumbling  down  to  the  gate. 

"Voodoo!     Voodoo!"  she  cried,  hoarsely. 

"Oh,"  said  Isabella,  nervously,  "Dr.  Etwald  must 
be  at  hand.     When  Dido  says  'Voodoo'  he  comes." 


44  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 


CHAPTER  V. 
DR.  ETWALD'S  WARNING. 

*'When  Dido  says  'Voodoo'  he  comes,"  repeated 
Maurice,  greatly  puzzled.  "Are  you  talking  of  Dr. 
Etwald?" 

"Yes.  He  seems  to  possess  some  strange  power 
over  Dido,  for  she  always  knows  when  he  is 
approaching.  See,  Maurice,  Dido  is  waiting  at  the 
gate ;  in  a  few  moments  you  will  see  Dr.  Etwald 
enter  it. ' ' 

The  two  young  people  looked  steadfastly  at  the 
brilliantly-colored  figure  of  the  negress,  standing  in 
a  statuesque  attitude  near  the  great  iron  gate.  On 
either  side  of  her  waved  the  summer  foliage  of  the 
trees ;  overhead  the  sun,  like  a  burning  eye,  looked 
down  from  a  cloudless  sky,  and  beyond,  the  dusty 
white  road  showed  distinctly  through  the  slender 
bars  of  the  gate.  All  was  bright  and  cheerful  and 
English,  but  in  that  sinister  red  figure,  with  its 
black  face  and  hands,  there  was  a  suggestion  of  evil 
which  seemed  to  dominate  and  poison  the  whole 
beautiful  scene.  Maurice  felt  Isabella  shudder  with 
nervous  dread  as  she  pressed  closely  to  his  side. 

"Dearest,  you  must  not  be  affaid,"  said  he, 
glancing  down  anxiously  at  her  face.  "You  must 
throw  off  the  terror  you  have  of  this  woman.  If 
the  law—" 


DR.  ETWALD'S  WARNING.  45 

At  this  moment  he  broke  off  his  speech  with  an 
ejaculation  of  surprise,  for,  true  to  the  prognostica- 
tion of  Isabella — in  answer  to  the  expectant  attitude 
of  the  negress — Dr.  Etwald  turned  in  at  the  gate. 

"Ho!  ho!"  murmured  Maurice,  rather  taken  back. 
"So  the  art  of  devil-raising  is  not  a  lost  one  after 
all.    Dido  can  still  call  spirits  from  the  vasty  deep. ' ' 

"She  has  called  flesh  and  blood, "  said  Isabella, 
with  a  shiver.  ' '  But  there  is  nothing  strange  about 
Dr.  Etwald's  appearance  just  now.  Dido  did  not 
call  him ;  she  simply  felt  that  he  was  at  hand,  and 
went  to  meet  him  at  the  gate." 

They  continued  to  watch  the  pair,  and  saw  Dido 
throw  herself  at  the  feet  of  Etwald,  who  raised  his 
hand  over  her  in  a  threatening  manner.  He  pointed 
into  the  wood  with  an  imperious  gesture,  and  in  a 
slinking  attitude  the  usually  stately  Dido  passed  out 
of  sight  into  the  little  path  down  which  Isabella  had 
come  to  meet  Maurice.  When  the  gleam  of  her  red 
dress  disappeared  Etwald  wiped  his  face  and  walked 
briskly  up  the  avenue  toward  the  young  couple. 

"Shall  we  'go  on  or  wait  for  him  here?"  asked 
Isabella  in  a  whisper. 

"Wait,"  replied  Maurice,  in  the  same  tone.  "I 
shall  not  let  him  think  that  either  of  us  is  afraid  of 
his  charlatan  tricks. ' ' 

Dr.  Etwald  approached,  with  what  was  meant  for 
a  smile  on  his  usually  sombre  face,  and  took  off  his 
hat  to  Miss  Dallas.  But  he  did  not  speak  as  he  made 
his  salutation,  so  the  girl  was  forced,  by  reason  of 


46  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

this  uncomfortable  silence,  to  make  the  first 
observation. 

"Good-morning,  doctor,"  she  said,  as  he  replaced 
his  hat;  "I  suppose  you  have  come  to  see  my 
mother." 

' '  Partly,  Miss  Dallas,  and  partly  to  see  you ;  also 
this  gentleman." 

"To  see  me!"  said  Maurice,  looking  at  his  rival. 
"Then  why  did  you  not  go  to  'Ashantee?'  " 

Etwald  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"I  never  give  myself  unnecessary  trouble,"  he 
answered,  calmly,  "and.  of  course,  I  knew  that  I 
should  find  you  here." 

"By  what  right  do  you  say  that?"  demanded 
Maurice,  sharply. 

"By  the  right  of  our  conversation  last  night,  Mr. 
Alymer.  You  have  forestalled  me,  I  see.  No 
matter,"  added  Etwald,  with  a  sneer.  "To-day  to 
you;  to-morrow  to  me." 

All  this  was  quite  unintelligible  to  Isabella,  who 
looked  from  one  to  the  other  of  her  companions  in 
bewilderment,  not  guessing  for  the  moment  that  she 
was  the  bone  of  contention  between  them.  She  saw 
the  suppressed  mockery  on  Etwald's  face,  and  noted 
also  that  Maurice,  roused  by  the  quiet  insistence  of 
the  doctor,  had  much  difficulty  in  keeping  his 
temper.  Knowing  how  her  lover  disliked  Etwald, 
and  fearing  lest  there  should  be  a  quarrel  between 
the  two  men,  she  cut  the  Gordian  knot  by  hastily 
proposing  that  they  should  go  np  to  the  house. 

At   the   same   time   she   was  afraid  lest  further 


DR.  ETWALD'S  WARNING.  47 

trouble  should  occur  therein,  for  it  seemed  to  her 
that  Etwald  had  paid  this  visit  for  the  express 
purpose  of  making  himself  disagreeable. 

However,  he  did  not  say  anything  further  at  the 
moment,  but  walked  beside  Isabella  toward  The 
Wigwam.  Behind  them  Maurice  strolled  slowly, 
fuming  and  fretting  at  the  attitude  assumed  by 
Etwald  by  the  side  of  Isabella.  She  cast  a  back- 
ward glance  at  his  frowning  face,  and  to  avert 
possible  trouble  she  began  hastily  to  question  the 
doctor  about  the  strange  conduct  of  Dido. 

"What  was  the  matter  with  my  nurse,  doctor?" 
she  asked.     "What  have  you  been  doing  to  her?" 

"She  was  agitated,  my  dear  young  lady,  and  I 
have  calmed  that  agitation. ' ' 

"  After  having  previously  caused  it, "  said  Maurice, 
in  a  significant  tone. 

The  doctor  looked  at  the  young  man  calmly. 

"What  possible  reason  have  you  to  make  such  an 
accusation?"  he  demanded. 

"I  think  it  is  my  fault,"  said  Isabella,  hastily. 
"I  remarked  that  Dido  was  always  agitated  when 
you  came  to  this  house." 

"I  can  explain  that  in  a  measure.  Miss  Dallas. 
If  you  remember  I  cured  Dido  of  a  bad  nervous 
headache  by  hypnotic  suggestion.  Her  mind,  there- 
fore, became  habituated  in  responding  to  mine, 
and  doubtless  she  feels  a  kind  of  impression  which 
tells  her  that  I  am  near. " 

"In  other  words,"  said  Maurice,  pointedly,  "you 
have  obtained  an  influence  over  her." 


48  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

"It  is  not  improbable,"  rejoined  Etwald,  in 
measured  tones.  "I  am  one  of  those  people,  Mr. 
Alymer,  who  can,  by  strength  of  will  and  power  of 
character,  obtain  power  over  anyone  I  wish." 

As  he  spoke,  Etwald  cast  a  sudden  glance  at 
Isabella.  The  girl  was  looking  toward  the  house, 
out  of  which  her  mother  had  just  emerged,  and  did 
not  see  the  menace  in  his  regard ;  but  Maurice  noted 
the  gaze,  and  felt  enraged  at  all  it  implied. 

In  plain  words,  Etwald  intimated  in  a  veiled 
manner  that  Isabella  was  a  nervous  subject,  over 
whom  he  could  obtain  influence,  if  he  so  chose, 
by  the  unlawful  means  of  hypnotism.  This  power 
Maurice  was  determined  he  should  not  gain,  and  by 
asking  a  direct  question  he  tried  to  force  Etwald 
into  a  confession  of  illegitimate  practices.  By  this 
he  hoped  to  warn  Isabella,  and  make  her  afraid 
of  trusting  herself  too  much  in  the  doctor's  company. 

"You  have  been  in  the  West  Indies,  doctor?" 
asked  Maurice,  bluntly. 

"I  have  been  all  over  the  world,  Mr.  Alymer," 
parried  Etwald,  dexterously. 

"Do  you  know  anything  of  Voodoo  worship?" 

' '  I  know  something  of  most  things, '  *  assented  the 
doctor.  "But  I  confess  I  take  but  little  interest  in 
African  barbarities." 

"Oh,  what  about  Dido  and  her  meeting  you?" 

"I  have  explained  that  to  the  best  of  my  ability," 
responded  Etwald,  coldly,  "and  now,  Mr.  Alymer, 
as  our  hostess  is  approaching  you  must  excuse  my 
replying  to   any  further   questions.     If  you   want 


DR.  ETWALD'S  WARNING.  49 

further  insight  into  my  character,  call  upon  me  at 
Deanminster. ' ' 

"That  I  shall  certainly  do,"  said  Maurice,  for  he 
was  resolved  to  learn  all  he  could  about  this  strange 
man,  so  that  he  could  protect  Isabella  from  his  arts. 

"Ah,"  said  the  doctor,  with  irony,  "we  shall  see 
if  you  will  venture  so  far." 

Before  Maurice  could  take  up  the  implied 
challenge,  which  threw  doubts  upon  his  moral 
courage,  Mrs.  Dallas  advanced  heavily  to  meet  her 
visitors.  Isabella  had  already  flitted  like  a  white 
butterfly  into  the  drawing-room,  and  her  mother 
received  the  two  young  men  alone.  Her  reception 
was,  as  usual,  ponderous  and  vague. 

"So  pleased  to  see  you,  Mr.  Alymer.  Dr.  Etwald, 
I  am  charmed.  It  is  a  delightful  day,  is  it  not? 
Reminds  one  of  Barbadoes." 

"I  have  never  been  in  Barbadoes,"  sajd  Maurice, 
toward  whom  her  languid  gaze  was  directed.  "But 
Dr.  Etwald  may  be  able  to  answer  your  question, 
Mrs.  Dallas." 

"I  know  the  West  Indian  islands,"  observed 
Etwald  as  they  walked  into  the  house,  "and  this  day 
does  remind  me  a  little  of  the  climate  there ;  but  it 
is  scarcely  hot  enough." 

"No,"  murmured  Mrs.  Dallas,  sinking  into  a  large 
chair.  "You  are  right.  I  have  been  in  the  sun  all 
the  morning,  and  only  now  am  I  beginning  to  feel 
warm,     I  shall  certainly  go  back  to  Barbadoes. " 

Mrs.  Dallas  had  made  this  threat  so  many  times 
that  nobody  paid  any  attention  to  it,  and,  not 
4 


5©  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

expecting  an  answer,  she  began  to  fan  herself  slowly. 
Through  her  half-closed  eyes  she  looked  anxiously 
at  the  subtle  face  of  Etwald.  With  the  instinct  of 
a  woman  she  guessed  that  something  important  had 
brought  the  doctor  to  see  her ;  he  was  not  a  man  to 
waste  his  time  on  visits  of  ceremony. 

Now  Mrs.  Dallas  was  secretly  afraid  of  Etwald, 
as  she  had  received  hints  from  Dido,  in  whose  truth 
she  implicitly  believed — that  the  doctor  knew  more 
about  secret  things  than  most  people.  She  dreaded 
lest  his  visit  should  portend  harm,  and  so,  in  some 
trepidation,  she  waited  for  him  to  speak.  But 
Etwald,  guessing  her  frame  of  mind,  took  his  time 
and  it  was  only  when  Isabella  approached  with  some 
tea  for  her  mother  that  he  broke  the  silence. 

"Don't  go  away,  Miss  Dallas,"  he  said,  entreat- 
ingly.  "I  have  something  to  say  to  your  mother 
which  concerns  you." 

Isabella  turned  pale,  for  she  guessed  what  was 
coming.  As  Etwald  had  raised  his  voice  purposely, 
Maurice,  who  was  standing  by  the  tea-table,  also 
pricked  up  his  ears.  Mrs.  Dallas,  with  some 
curiosity,  raised  herself  to  look  closer  at  Etwald 
and  he,  seeing  that  his  auditory  was  attentive, 
prepared  to  launch  his  thunderbolt. 

"My  dear  Mrs.  Dallas,"  he  said,  in  a  soft  voice, 
"you  must  have  seen  for  a  long  time  that  my  visits 
here  have  not  been  made  without  an  object. 
To-day  I  come  to  ask  you  and  your  sweet  daughter 
a  question. " 


DR.  ETWALD'S  WARNING.  51 

"What  is  it?"  asked  the  mother,  devoured  by 
curiosity. 

"Pray  don't  ask  it,  "  said  Isabella,  better  informed 
by  Etwald's  glance  as  to  his  purpose.  "It  will  only 
give  you  pain. ' ' 

"I  must  risk  that,"  said  the  doctor,  slowly, 
"Mrs.  Dallas,  I  love  your  daughter,  and  I  wish  to 
marry  her.     Miss  Isabella,  will  you  be  my  wife?" 

Here  Maurice  set  down  his  cup  with  a  crash,  and 
strode  across  the  room,  where  he  faced  Etwald  in 
no  very  pleasant  frame  of  mind. 

"I  shall  answer  that  question.  Dr.  Etwald,"  he 
said,  loudly.  "Miss  Dallas  shall  not  and  can  not 
marry  you.     She  has  promised  to  be  my  wife." 

"Isabella!"  said  Mrs.  Dallas,  in  an  aggrieved 
tone.     "Is  this  true?" 

"Perfectly  true,"  assented  Isabella.  "I  love 
Maurice.  I  wish  to  marry  him."  And  slipping  her 
arm  within  that  of  her  lover,  she  prepared  to  face 
the  storm. 

"You  are  a  disobedient  girl,"  cried  Mrs.  Dallas, 
making  no  attempt  to  control  her  temper.  "You 
shall  not  marry  without  my  permission.  Mr.  Alymer, 
I  am  astonished  at  you ;  I  am  disappointed  in  you. 
It  is  not  the  act  of  a  gentleman  to  steal  away  the 
affections  of  my  daughter  without  informing  me  of 
your  intentions. ' ' 

"I  had  my  reasons  for  not  doing  so,  Mrs.  Dallas," 
replied  Maurice,  quickly.  "But  I  was  about  to 
tell  you  of  our  engagement  when  Dr.  Etwald  fore- 
stalled me  by  making  his  unexpected  offer. " 


52  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

''Unexpected,  Mr.  Alymer!"  smiled  Etwald. 
"After  my  statement  last  night?" 

"Unexpected  so  far  as  time  and  place  are  con- 
cerned," said  Maurice,  firmly.  "But  as  you  have 
asked  Miss  Dallas  to  marry  you,  take  her  refusal 
from  her  own  lips. ' ' 

"Miss  Dallas!"  said  Etwald,  in  no  wise  moved  by 
this  speech. 

"Isabella!"  cried  her  mother  in  an  angry  tone. 

Isabella  looked  calmly  at  them  both. 

"I  love  Maurice.  I  intend  to  marry  him,"  she 
repeated,  and  an  obstinate  expression  came  over 
her  face. 

"In  that  case,"  said  Etwald,  rising,  "I  must  take 
my  leave,  and  shall  be  content  with  that  answer 
until  such  time  as  you  are  free;  then,"  he  added, 
coolly,  "I  shall  ask  you  again." 

"I  shall  never  be  free,"  said  Isabella,  proudly. 

"Oh,  yes,  you  will;  when  Mr.  Alymer  is  dead. " 

"Dead!"  shrieked  Mrs.  Dallas,  all  her  superstition 
roused  by  the  word.  "Come  away  from  that  man, 
Isabella." 

"Maurice  dead!"  repeated  the  girl,  with  a  pale 
cheek. 

The  young  man  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Pooh!  pooh!  some  nonsense  that  Dr.  Etwald 
was  talking  about  last  night, ' '  he  added,  contempt- 
uously. "He  says  if  I  marry,  it  will  be  a  case  of 
life  in  death,  whatever  that  means." 

Etwald  rose  to  his  feet  and  stretched  out  a 
menacing  hand. 


DR.  ETWALD'S  WARNING.  53 

' '  I  have  warned  you,  Alymer, ' '  he  said,  sternly. 
"Your  marriage,  after  or  before  it,  means  life  in 
death.  Take  care !  Ladies, ' '  he  added,  with  a  bow, 
"I  take  my  departure." 

Outside  Etwald  foimd  Dido  waiting  for  him.  He 
looked  at  her  significantly. 

"I  have  failed,  "  he  said.  "There  is  nothing  left 
but  the  devil-stick. '  * 


54  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 


CHAPTER  VL 
A  STRANGE  OCCURRENCE. 

Maurice  returned  home  after  a  somewhat  stormy 
interview  with  Mrs.  Dallas.  For  once  the  mother 
of  Isabella  was  roused  out  of  her  habitual  indiffer- 
ence, and  she  refused  absolutely  to  accept  Alymer 
as  her  son-in-law.  In  vain  the  lovers  implored  her 
to  give  some  reason  for  her  strange  refusal,  but 
beyond  expressing  a  personal  dislike  for  Maurice 
she  declined  to  explain  her  conduct.  The  young 
man  saw  in  this  uncalled  for  behaviof  the  hostile 
influence  of  Dido. 

"It  is  because  that  black  woman  distrusts  me  that 
you  object,"  he  said,  when  Mrs.  Dallas  had  talked 
herself  hoarse.  "I  wonder  that  an  English  lady,  a 
Christian  and  an  educated  person  should  be  domin- 
ated by  that  uncivilized  creature." 

"Dido  has  nothing  to  do  with  my  refusal,"  said 
the  widow,  coldly,  "and  although  I  take  her  advice 
in  some  things  I  do  not  in  this.  I  do  not  wish 
Isabella  to  marry  you,  and  I  request  you  to  leave 
my  house — " 

"Mother!"  cried  Isabella,  with  a  pale  face. 

"And  never  come  back  to  it  again!"  finished  Mrs. 
Dallas,    sharply. 


A  STRANGE  OCCURRENCE.  55 

Maurice  went  to  the  window  of  the  room  which 
opened  on  to  the  veranda  and  put  on  his  hat. 

"As  a  gentleman,  I  must  accept  your  dismissal," 
he  said,  quietly;  "but  1  decline  to  give  up  Isabella." 

"And  I,' '  cried  the  girl,  "swear  to  remain  true  to 
Maurice. " 

"You'll  do  nothing  of  the  sort,"  said  her  mother, 
violently.  "I  forbid  you  even  to  think  of  that 
young  man.     You  shall  marry  whom  I  choose.  " 

"Dr.  Etwald,  I  suppose?" 

"No.     Mr.  Sarby." 

"David!"  ejaculated  Maurice,  in  an  astonished 
tone.     "You  wish  Isabella  to  marry  him?" 

"Yes.  He  loves  Isabella  much  more  than  you 
do,  and  he  asked  permission — which  you  didn't — to 
pay  his  addresses  to  her.  I  consented,  and  so," 
Mrs.  Dallas  raised  her  voice,  "he  shall  marry  her." 

"I  refuse  to  marry  Mr.  Sarby,"  said  Isabella, 
vehemently.     "I  hate  him!" 

"That  is  no  matter,"  replied  her  mother,  coldly. 
"You  must  marry  him." 

' '  Must ! ' '  repeated  Maurice,  with  great  indignation. 

"Yes,  Mr.  Alymer  Must!  Must!  Must!  If 
you  want  an  explanation  of  that  you  can  ask — " 
Here  Mrs.  Dallas  paused  with  a  strange  smile  and 
added  slowly:     "Major  Jen." 

"The  major!  My  guardian!"  cried  Alymer, 
quite  thunderstruck.     "Is  he  against  me?" 

"Ask  him." 

"I  don't  believe  it." 

"Ask  him,"  repeated  Mrs.  Dallas. 


56  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

"Nor  I,"  said  Isabella.  "The  major  is  a  kind 
man,  and  he  wants  to  see  me  happy.     He  is — " 

"That  is  enough,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Dallas,  rising 
in  a  cold  fury.  "I  want  no  further  speeches  from 
you.  Go  to  'your  room,  Isabella.  Mr.  Alymer, 
your  way  lies  yonder, ' '  and  with  a  swift  gesture  she 
pointed  to  the  window. 

Resigning  himself  to  the  inevitable,  Maurice  gave 
one  glance  at  Isabella,  and  went  outside  with  a 
heavy  heart.  Dido  was  standing  upon  the  veranda 
with  her  eyes  glowing  like  two  coals.  Yet  there  was 
an  ill-concealed  expression  of  triumph  in  her  gaze, 
which  Maurice,  in  his  then  disturbed  and  angered 
state  of  mind,  could  ill  brook.  He  paused  abruptly 
as  he  passed  by  her,  and  asked  a  direct  question : 

"Why  do  you  hate  me.  Dido?" 

The  negress  glared  savagely  at  him. 

"Voodoo!"  said  she,  in  a  harsh  voice. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that  jargon?"  he 
demanded,  in  angry  tones. 

"Voodoo!"  said  Dido  again,  and  showed  her  teeth 
in  anything  but  a  pleasant  fashion. 

"Bah!  you  black  parrot!"  muttered  Maurice 
scornfully  and  turned  upon  his  heel.  As  he 
vanished  down  the  walk  Dido  clapped  her  hands 
together  with  great  satisfaction  and  began  to  sing 
in  low  tones.  Her  song  was  barbaric  in  words  and 
strange  beyond  all  telling  in  the  music.  It  rose 
and  fell,  and  moaned  and  drawled,  in  a  curiously 
painful  manner.  In  the  drawing-room  Mrs.  Dallas 
had  risen  to  her  feet  at  the  first  deep  contralto  note, 


A  STRANGE  OCCURRENCE.  57 

and  now  stood  rocking  herself  to  and  fro  with  an 
expression  of  alarm  on  her  face.  Isabella  was 
terrified  in  her  turn  by  Dido's  song  and  her  mother's 
strange  conduct,  though  by  this  time  she  should 
have  been  used  to  these  eccentricities. 

"Mother,  what  is  it?     What  does  Dido  sing?" 

Mrs.  Dallas,  closing  her  eyes,  continued  rocking 
herself  to  and  fro,  saying  but  one  word  in  answer. 

"Voodoo!"  she  said,  and  that  was  all.  But  it 
was  enough  for  Isabella.  She  shrieked  and  ran 
out  of  the  room.  Then  Dido,  still  singing,  appeared 
at  the  window,  and  looked  at  Mrs,  Dallas  with  an 
expression  of  triumph. 

"Why  do  you  sing  the  death  song?"  asked  Mrs. 
Dallas,  opening  her  eyes, 

"Because  de  master  hab  doomed  dat  yaller-ha'r, " 
said  Dido,  and  continued  her  song. 

In  the  meantime  Maurice  walked  slowly  home- 
ward, puzzling  out  in  his  own  mind  as  to  what  could 
be  the  meaning  of  these  strange  things.  He  could 
not  understand  why  Mrs.  Dallas  objected  to  him  as 
a  son-in-law;  nor  could  he  surmise  the  meaning  of 
the  mysterious  word,  "Voodoo,"  pronounced  so 
significantly  by  Dido,  However,  he  saw  plainly 
that  the  negress  was  the  disturbing  element  in  the 
Dallas  household,  and  by  a  half-hypnotic  control 
over  the  weak  will  of  her  mistress,  she  could  act  as 
she  pleased.  The  widow  had  been  born  and  brought 
up  in  the  Barbadoes.  She  was  a  half-educated 
woman  of  feeble  intellect,  and  having  been  left 
during  the  time  her  mind  and  character  were  being 


58  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

formed  solely  to  the  society  of  black  servants,  she 
had  imbibed — not  unnaturally — many  of  the  debased 
superstitions  of  Africa.  Dido  knew  this,  and  by 
means  of  her  claims  to  a  knowledge  of  Obi,  she  was 
enabled  to  rule  Mrs.  Dallas,  and  also,  as  has  been 
stated,  to  exercise  a  powerful  influence  over  the 
plastic  mind  of  Isabella. 

"But  I'll  spoil  her  designs  in  that  quarter," 
muttered  Maurice,  as  his  thoughts  led  him  to  this 
conclusion.  "Isabella  shall  not  be  dragged  down  to 
the  level  of  her  mother.  I  shall  marry  her,  and  so 
destroy  the  influence  of  that  vile  negress. " 

This  was  easier  said  than  done,  as  Maurice,  simple 
and  upright  in  conduct  and  character,  was  no  match 
for  the  unscrupulous  machinations  of  Dido.  She 
hated  the  young  man,  and  was  determined  that  he 
should  not  marry  her  nursling.  But  whether  she 
had,  like  Mrs.  Dallas,  a  preference  for  David  over 
Etwald,  Maurice  could  not  determine.  The  more 
he  thought  over  affairs,  the  more  incoherent  and 
complicated  did  they  become ;  so  Alymer  gave  up 
the  ta.sk  in  despair.  Then  it  occurred  to  him  that 
Mrs.  Dallas  had  referred  him  to  Major  Jen;  so  to 
his  guardian  Maurice  went  the  moment  he  arrived 
at  the  big  house.  But  to  his  surprise,  the  major 
was  not  to  be  found. 

"Major  gone  out,  sir,"  explained  Jaggard,  to 
whom  Maurice  applied  for  information.  "He  got  a 
message  from  Dr.  Etwald,  and  went  to  see  him. 
Be  back  to  dinner,  sir,  I  b'lieve. " 

"Where  is  Mr.  Sarby?" 


A  STRANGE  OCCURRENCE.  59 

"Gone  over  to  Brance  Hall,  sir." 

"Ho,  ho!"  thought  Maurice,  as  he  turned  away. 
"So  David  has  gone  to  see  Lady  Meg  and  the 
countess.  Now,  if  he  is  in  love  with  Isabella,  and 
Mrs.  Dallas  favors  his  suit,  I  wonder  why  he  acts  in 
that  way?" 

The  question  he  could  not  answer,  so  dismissing  it 
from  his  memory,  he  retired  to  the  smoking-room 
with  a  pipe  and  a  novel.  When  Jen  and  David 
returned  he  intended  to  question  both,  and,  if 
possible,  get  to  the  bottom  of  these  thickening 
mysteries. 

"Hang  it!"  soliloquized  Maurice  over  his  book, 
"since  j^-esterday  everything  seems  to  have  gone 
wrong.  That  negress  and  Dr.  Etwald  are  at  the 
bottom  of  affairs.  But  I  can't  see  their  reasons  for 
mixing  things  up  so. ' ' 

Then  he  laid  aside  his  book  to  think,  and  through 
the  smoke  curling  from  his  pipe  he  stared  idly  at 
the  opposite  wall.  It  chanced  to  be  that  upon  which 
the  barbaric  weapons  before  alluded  to  were 
arranged,  and  conspicuous  among  them  glittered 
the  golden  handle  of  the  devil-stick.  Recalling  the 
mention  of  Voodoo,  and  Etwald 's  reference  to 
African  witchcraft,  Maurice  connected  in  his  own 
mind  the  devil-stick  with  those  barbarisms,  and  on 
the  impulse  of  the  moment  he  rose  to  examine  the 
magic  wand.  Handling  it  carefully — for  he  dreaded 
the  poison,  although  it  was  said  to  be  dried  up — he 
wondered  if  Dido  could  make  use  of  it  were  it  in  her 
possession. 


6o  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

"I  heard  Mrs.  Dallas  say  that  Dido's  people  came 
from  Ashantee,"  soliloquized  Maurice,  "so  I  have 
no  doubt  she  can  work  the  infernal  thing.  Perhaps 
she  knows  enough  to  fill  the  bag  with  fresh  poison. 
If  she  did  so,  I  wouldn't  trust  myself  near  her.  She 
would  be  sure  to  experiment  on  me. ' ' 

At  this  moment  Major  Jen,  looking  slightly 
worried,  entered  the  room,  and  seeing  the  devil-stick 
in  the  hand  of  Maurice,  he  stopped  short  with  an 
ejaculation  of  surprise, 

"You  are  looking  at  that  thing,  Maurice?"  said 
he,  wonderingly.      "Now  that  is  strange." 

"Why  should  it  be  strange?" 

"Because  I  have  just  been  talking  about  it  with 
Dr.  Etwald." 

"Oh!"  said  Maurice,  his  thoughts  flying  back  to 
the  mysterious  influence  which  he  had  seen  Etwald 
exercise  over  Dido.  "And  what  was  the  doctor 
saying?" 

Major  Jen  threw  himself  into  a  chair  and  frowned. 

"A  great  deal.  He  saw  the  devil-stick  the  other 
night—" 

"Last  night?" 

"Yes,  last  night,  and  to-day  he  sent  a  note  asking 
if  I  would  ride  over  and  see  him  this  afternoon.  I 
did  so,  and  he  then  explained  that  he  wished  to  buy 
that  thing." 

' '  The  devil-stick?    Why?'  * 

"I  can't  say.  He  explained  that  he  had  been  in 
the  Barbadoes,  and  that  he  took  a  great  interest  in 
the  subject  of  African  fetish  wor.ship.     He  had  heard 


A  STRANGE  OCCURRENCE.  6i 

of  these  'wands  of  sleep,'  as  they  are  called,  and 
greatly  wished  to  obtain  one,  but  he  was  unable  to 
do  so.  Since  seeing  mine  he  has  been  seized  with  a 
desire  to  possess  it. ' ' 

"Why?"  said  Maurice  again. 

"As  a  curiosity,  I  suppose.  I've  told  you  all  he 
told  me.  But  I  refused  to  sell  it  to  him,  and  he 
seemed  greatly  vexed,  a  display  of  irritation  which 
in  its  turn  vexed  me.  I  was  quite  annoyed  when  I 
left  him." 

"Why  don't  you  wish  to  sell  it.  Uncle  Jen?" 

"Because  it  is  a  dangerous  thing  to  handle. 
Although  the  poison  is  dried  up,  yet  there  may  be 
enough  in  it  to  kill  a  man.  If  I  parted  with  it  and 
anyone  was  injured  by  it  I  should  never  forgive 
myself.  Pray  put  it  up,  Maurice ;  I  dislike  to  see 
you  touch  it.  To-night,  after  dinner,  I  shall  lock  it 
up  in  a  safe  place.  David  is  right ;  it  should  not  be 
on  the  wall  there." 

"David  has  gone  over  to  see  Lady  Meg." 

"Yes.  I  don't  think  he  will  be  back  until  after 
dinner,"  said  Jen,  rising.  So  you  and  I  had  better 
sit  down  as  soon  as  we  are  dressed.  I  am  very  hungry.  " 

"Uncle  Jen,  I  want  to  ask  you  something." 

"What  is  it?"  asked  the  major,  pausing  at  the  door. 

"Do  you   wish  David  to  marry  Isabella  Dallas?" 

Jen  hesitated. 

"I  really  can't  say,"  he  said.  "That  is  a  matter 
which  lies  in  the  hands  of  the  girl  herself.  If  she 
likes  you  better  than  David — ' ' 

"She  does." 


62  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

"What!     Have  you  spoken  to  her?" 

"I  have,  and  to  Mrs.  Dallas,  who  declines  to 
sanction  our  engagement.  She  wants  Isabella  to 
marry  David,  and  said — " 

"I  can  guess  what  she  said,"  internipted  Jen, 
hastily. '  "No  more  of  this  till  after  dinner,  my  dear 
lad.     Then  I'll  explain  all." 

"Explain  what?" 

"Why  Mrs.  Dallas  wants  Isabella  to  marry  David." 
Not  another  word  would  the  major  say  on  the 
subject  at  that  moment,  so  Maurice  was  forced  to 
seek  his  room  in  a  very  unsatisfied  frame  of  mind. 
However,  as  he  thought,  here  was  one  mystery 
about  to  be  explained,  and  that  was  a  comfort.  As 
Jen  prophesied,  David  did  not  return  to  dinner,  and 
Maurice  had  a  tete-a-tete  with  his  guardian.  But 
they  talked  of  indifferent  things,  and  it  was  not  until 
they  were  once  more  in  the  smoking-room  with  cigars 
and  coffee  that  the  major  consented  to  speak  on  the 
subject  of  Mrs.  Dallas'  strange  conduct. 

"Now,  my  boy,  I'm  ready  to  tell — "  Here  Jen 
stopped  and  looked  blankly  at  the  wall. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  asked  Maurice,  in  surprise. 

"The  devil-stick!"  gasped  Jen,  pointing  a  shaking 
finger  at  the  wall.     "The  devil-stick!" 

Maurice  looked — the  devil-stick  was  gone  I 


THE  RIVALS.  63 


CHAPTER  VII. 
THE  RIVALS. 

For  some  moments  the  two  men  looked  at  one 
another;  and  then  Major  Jen,  seeing  the  necessity 
for  prompt  action,  rang  the  bell.  Jaggard  entered 
with  military  swiftness,  and  stared  blankly  at  his 
master,  who  was  pointing  at  the  wall;  an  action 
inexplicable  to  the  servant  at  that  moment. 

"Where  is  the  devil-stick?"  demanded  Jen,  wrath- 
fiilly. 

"The  what,  sir?"  asked  Jaggard,  doubtfully. 

"The  green  stick  with  the  gold  handle  which  was 
placed  among  the  weapons  here.  It  is  gone.  What 
has  become  of  it?" 

Jaggard  advanced  to  the  trophy  of  weapons,  and 
examined  them  with  some  deliberation,  after  which 
he  turned  to  face  the  irate  major. 

"It's  gone  sure  enough,  sir,  but  I  don't  know 
where." 

' '  Find  out  if  any  of  the  servants  have  taken  it. ' ' 

Jaggard  saluted  and  vanished,  while  his  master 
walked  up  and  down  the  room,  fuming  at  the  loss  of 
the  curiosity.  He  had  all  the  talk  to  himself,  for 
Maurice,  whose  mind  was  busy  with  conjectures  as  to 
Dido  or  Dr.  Etwald  being  the  thief,  did  not  think  it 
necessary   to    speak.     In    a    few  minutes  Jaggard 


64  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

returned  with  the  news  that  none  of  the  servants  had 
been  in  the  smoking-room  that  evening. 

"Who  lighted  the  lamp?"  demanded  Jen,  sharply. 

"I  did,  sir." 

"We  found  the  window  open  when  we  came  in," 
said  Maurice.      "Did  you  open  it?" 

"Yes,  sir.  The  major  told  me  to  always  air  the 
room  during  dinner." 

"Do  you  think  that  someone  has  stolen  the  stick, 
Maurice?"  said  the  major.  "Someone  from  outside, 
I  mean." 

"I  am  sure  of  it,"  replied  Alymer,  with  decision. 

"Jaggard,  did  you  notice  that  negress  of  Mrs, 
Dallas'  about  the  grounds,  since  five  o'clock?" 

"Why  no,  Mr.  Maurice,  I  can't  say  as  I  did." 

"The  tramp  then;  Battersea?" 

"No,  sir.  Haven't  set  eyes  on  him  for  a 
week. ' ' 

"When  you  lighted  the  lamp  it  was  eight  o'clock?" 

"About  that,  sir.  I  lighted  it  just  after  dinner, 
while  you  and  the  major  were  over  your  wine,  so  to 
speak,  sir. " 

"And  the  room  was  in  darkness — that  is,  compara- 
tive darkness — before  then,"  mused  Maurice.  "I 
don 't  think  anyone  could  have  seen  the  devil-stick 
unless  the  lamp  was  lighted.  Was  it  gone  when  you 
lighted  up?" 

"I  didn't  observe,  sir!" 

"Very  good,  Jaggard,"  broke  in  the  major,  "you 
can  go.  Maurice!"  he  turned  to  the  yoimg  man 
when  Jaggard  left  the  room,  "what  do  you  mean  by 


THE  RIVALS.  65 

all  these  questions  and  examinations?  Do  you  sus- 
pect anyone?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Maurice,  deliberately.  "I  suspect 
Dido,  the  negress." 

"Why?"  asked  Jen,  with  military  brevity. 

"  It 's  a  long  story, ' '  returned  Maurice,  lighting  a 
fresh  cigar.  "Look  here,  Uncle  Jen,  I  went  to  dress 
at  half-past  six;  you  did  also.  When  we  left  the 
devil-stick  was  in  the  room  on  the  wall.  Now  we 
are  here  again  at  half-past  eight,  the  devil-stick  is 
gone.  In  these  two  hours  Dido  has  had  time  to  cross 
the  lawn  yonder  and  steal  it.  " 

"But  why  do  you  suspect  Dido?" 

"Because  the  room  was  in  darkness,  as  you  heard 
Jaggard  say.  To  steal  that  stick  the  thief  must  have 
known  its  position  on  the  wall. ' ' 

"Well,  Dido  didn't  know  that;  she  was  never  in 
this  room. " 

"No,  but  Dr.  Etwald  was." 

* '  Dr.  Etwald !  Do  you  think  he  has  anything  to  do 
with  it?' '  queried  Jen,  perplexed  and  a  trifled  startled, 

"I  am  certain  of  it,"  replied  Maurice.  "He  em- 
ployed Dido  to  steal  it  from  you,  as  you  refused  to 
sell  it.  Listen,  uncle,  and  I'll  give  you  my  reasons 
for  this  belief, ' '  and  then  Maurice  told  succinctly  all 
that  had  taken  place  at  The  Wigwam  during  the 
afternoon. 

Major  Jen  listened  quietly,  and  waited  until  Mau- 
rice ended  his  story  before  he  spoke.  The  informa- 
tion about  Mrs.  Dallas  and  her  reference  to  himself 
did  not  surprise  him  so  much  as  Alymer  expected 
5 


66  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

it  would  do.  In  fact  he  only  made  one  brief  remark 
upon  this  point. 

*'I  am  sorry  Mrs.  Dallas  said  that,"  he  remarked, 
when  Maurice  paused  in  his  narrative. 

"But  what  does  she  mean  by  it.  Uncle  Jen? 
Didn't  you  wish  me  to  maiTy  Isabella?" 

"I  am  neither  for  nor  against,"  replied  Jen, 
enigmatically.  "As  I  said  before,  let  the  girl 
iparry^  who  she  loves  best. ' ' 

"She  loves  me  best." 

"In  that  case  I  am  sorry  for  David,"  retorted  the 
major. 

"So  am  I,"  rejoined  Maurice,  promptly.  "All 
the  same,  you  can  hardly  expect  me  to  give  up  to 
David  the  girl  I  love,  and  who  loves  me.  But  why 
does  Mrs.  Dallas  support  David's  suit?" 

"Ask  her  to  explain  that,  my  dear  lad." 

"I  did  so,  and  she  referred  me  to  you." 

Major  Jen  wriggled  uneasily  in  his  seat,  and  care- 
fully knocked  the  ash  off  his  cigar.  He  disliked 
telling  what  appeared  to  him  to  be  a  silly  story,  but 
as  such  story  bore  strongly  upon  the  present  position 
of  things,  and  as  Maurice  was  impatiently  waiting  to 
be  enlightened,  Jen  was  forced  to  put  his  scruples 
on  one  side  and  speak  out. 

"If  what  I  relate  appears  impossible  don't  blame 
me,"  he  said,  abruptly,  "and  I  feel  certain  that  you 
will  laugh  when  I  tell  you  about  Voodoo!" 

"That  word  again!"  cried  Maurice,  in  a  puzzled 
voice.     "Dido  used  it  when  we  met  Etwald;   she 


THE  RIVALS.  67 

repeated  it  to  me  before  I  left.  Voodoo !  Voodoo ! 
What  does  it  mean,  Uncle  Jen?" 

"African  witchcraft!  Obi!  Fetish  worship !  The 
adoration  of  the  bad  spirit  who  catches  mortals  by 
the  hair.  Any  one  of  these  things  explains  the 
meaning  of  the  term." 

"H'm!"  said  Maurice.  "It  is  devil-worship,  pure 
and  simple." 

"Yes,  and  Mrs.  Dallas  knows  more  about  it  than 
is  good  for  her." 

"But  you  don't  mean  to  say  that  she  believes  in  it!" 

"My  boy,"  Jen  laid  his  hand  upon  the  arm  of  the 
young  man,  "when  you  reach  my  age  you  will  find 
that  there  is  no  limit  to  the  credulity  and  folly  of 
human  beings.  When  I  was  stationed  in  the  Barba- 
does  many  years  ago  I  met  Mrs.  Dallas. " 

"Oh!  so  she  is  an  old  friend  of  yours?" 

"Yes.  I  knew  her  in  the  West  Indies  shortly 
before  Isabella  was  born.  It  was  through  knowing 
me,"  explained  the  major,  "that  she  came  to  this 
neighborhood  and  rented  The  Wigwam.  You  see, 
Maurice,  I  was  one  of  the  few  people  she  knew  in 
England,  and  she  remained  near  me  for  company's 
sake,  and" — here  the  major  hesitated — "and  because 
she  was  afraid  of  herself,"  he  finished  signifi- 
cantly. 

"I  don't  quite  understand." 

"I  shall  explain,  and  it  is  lucky  for  you  that  Mrs. 
Dallas  gave  you  permission  to  ask  me  for  an  expla- 
nation, otherwise  I  should  have  been  forced,  from  a 
sense  of  honor,  to  hold  my  tongue.     As  it  is,  I  can 


68  FOR  THE  DEFENSE, 

tell  yoii ;  Mrs.  Dallas  fears  that  if  Isabella  marries 
anyone  but  David  her  death  will  take  place." 

• '  Whose  death  ?     Isabella' s  or  Mrs.  Dallas'  ?' ' 

"The  latter.  You  must  know,  Maurice,"  continued 
the  major,  "that  Mrs.  Dallas,  though  well  born  and 
well  married,  is  an  extremely  ignorant  woman.  She 
was  brought  up  mostly  by  Dido's  grandmother,  who 
was  the  most  accursed  old  witch  in  Barbadoes,  or  out 
of  it  for  the  matter  of  that.  This  old  hag  instilled 
into  the  mind  of  Mrs.  Dallas  all  kinds  of  superstitions 
in  which  she  really  believes.  When  the  grandmother 
died  Dido  became  nurse  to  Isabella,  and  private 
witch  of  the  Dallas  household.  She  is  clever — 
wonderfully  clever — and  she  has  continued  her 
grandmother's  system  of  terrorizing  both  Mrs, 
Dallas  and  Isabella. ' ' 

"Yes;  I  can  see  that.  Uncle  Jen,  and  it  is  for  that 
reason  I  want  to  marry  Isabella,  and  take  her  away 
before  her  mind  is  degraded  further  by  that  old 
fury." 

"Well,  the  old  fury  sees  what  you  want,  my  dear 
lad,  and  so  she  is  determined  that  Isabella  shall  marry 
David  and  not  you.  To  accomplish  her  aims  she 
went  through  some  hocus-pocus  of  devilry,  or 
fortune-telling,  or  incantation,  and  discovered  that 
if  Isabella  marries  you,  Mrs.  Dallas  will  die. " 

"And  does  Mrs.  Dallas  believe  that  rubbish?" 
asked  Maurice,  incredulously. 

"Implicitly!  I  tell  you  she  is  ignorant  and  super- 
stitious. Come  what  may,  she  is  convinced  that 
your  marriage  with  Isabella  means  her  own  death ; 


THE  RIVALS.  69 

SO  you  may  rest  assured,  Maurice,  that  she  will 
never,  never  accept  you  as  her  son-in-law," 

"I  understand,"  said  Maurice,  with  a  shrug.  "It 
seems  hopeless  to  contest  this  decision  of  a  diseased 
and  feeble  mind.  I  can  understand  Dido  stopping- 
my  marriage,  as  she  wants  to  retain  her  sinful 
influence  over  Isabella;  I  can  understand  Mrs. 
Dallas,  weak  and  silly,  being  dominated  by  this 
negro  Jezebel ;  but  I  can't  understand  why  David  is 
chosen  as  the  future  son-in-law.  If  he  marries 
Isabella,  he  will  no  more  put  up  with  Dido  than  I 
should  have  done." 

"Of  course  not;  I  can't  explain  the  reason," 
repeated  Jen,  shaking  his  head.  "But  you  know 
all  that  I  know,  Maurice ;  and  you  can  see  that  it  is 
hopeless  for  you  to  attempt  to  marry  the  girl." 

"I'm  not  so  sure  of  that,"  retorted  Maurice;  "I 
love  Isabella,  and  come  what  may  I  intend  to  make 
her  my  wife." 

"But  what  about  me?"  said  a  voice  outside  the 
open  window;  "what  about  me?"  And  a  moment 
later  David,  in  dusty  riding-dress,  stepped  into  the 
room.  He  looked  disturbed  and  angry,  and  his 
strongly  marked  face  bore  traces  of  agitation  and 
haunting  thoughts. 

Disturbed  by  the  unexpected  appearance  of  David, 
and  seeing  from  his  expression  that  he  was  bent 
upon  making  himself  disagreeable,  Jen  hastily 
interposed  to  prevent  a  quarrel  between  the  two 
young  men. 

"What,    David,    back  again!"   he  said,  ignoring 


70  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

the  question  asked  by  Sarby.  "So  you  did  not  stay 
to  dinner?" 

"No,"  replied  David,  shortly.  "I  didn't!"  He 
flung  himself  into  a  chair  and  resumed  in  a  signifi- 
cant tone,  "Lady  Seamere  didn't  ask  me,  and  if  she 
had  I  couldn't  have  accepted  in  this  dress.  Besides, 
I  am  not  the  man  whom  she  delights  to  honor. 
Now  if  Maurice  had  been  there,  Lady  Meg — ' ' 

"ii'or  heaven's  sake  don't  couple  my  name  with 
Lady  Meg's,"  interrupted  Maurice,  sharply.  "You 
know  quite  well — " 

"Yes  I  do,"  rejoined  David,  interrupting  in  his 
turn.     "And  so  does  she!" 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"What  I  say.  It's  no  use  your  assuming  that 
innocent  air,  Maurice.  You  have  not  treated  Lady 
Meg  well!" 

"I  have!  How  dare  you  say  such  a  thing?  Lady 
Meg  knew  that  I  was  in  love  with  Isabella." 

"Oh!"  said  David,  with  a  sneer.  "I  overheard  you 
arrange  to  marry  her.  But  you'll  never  do  that 
while  I  am  alive,  or  Mrs.  Dallas  either." 

"I  know  that  Mrs.  Dallas  is  on  your  side,  and  I 
know  the  reason. " 

"Then  you  know  more  than  I  do,"  retorted  Sarby. 
"I  told  Mrs.  Dallas  that  I  loved  Isabella  and  she 
said  that  nothing  would  give  her  greater  pleasure 
than  to  see  us  married. ' ' 

"You  shan't  marry  her!"  cried  Maurice,  angrily 
rising. 

"I  shall!"  said  David,  and  rose  also. 


THE  RIVALS.  71 

"Boys!  boys!"  said  Jen,  annoyed  at  this  quarrel, 
"do  not  be  so  positive.  If  you  are  both  in  love  with 
the  same  woman,  let  the  woman  decide.  " 

"She  has  decided!"  said  Alymer,  sharply.  "She 
loves  me," 

"I  don't  care  two  straws  about  that,"  said  David, 
coldly.  "I  have  not  spoken  to  her  yet,  but  all  the 
same  I  intend  her  to  become  my  wife.  I  give  you 
fair  warning,  Maurice,  that  you  are  not  to  poach 
upon  my  preserves." 

"Your  preserves.     Confound  your  insolence!" 

"Upon  my  word,  David,"  said  Jen,  seeing  that 
Maurice  could  hardly  speak  for  rage,  "you  go  too 
far.  The  girl  loves  Maurice  and  not  you;  and  it 
would  be  much  more  honorable  for  you  not  to  press 
your  suit." 

"I  don't  care  two  pins  for  honor,  major!  I  love 
Isabella,  and  I  intend  to  marry  her.  But  become 
the  wife  of  Maurice  she  never  shall;  I'd  rather  see 
her  married  to  Etwald." 

"The  third  Richmond  who  is  in  the  field,"  scoffed 
Maurice.  "Well,  he  has  as  good  a  chance  as  you. 
Dido  supports  his  pretensions;  Mrs.  Dallas  is  your 
champion.  As  for  me,  I  have  the  love  of  Isabella, 
so  I'm  afraid  of  nothing." 

"Are  you  not?"  said  Sarby,  with  a  peculiar  smile. 
"Remember  what  Etwald  said  about  your  life-in- 
death!" 

"I  don't  believe  in  that  rubbish,  David,  and  I 
should  be  very  sorry  to  think  you  did. ' ' 

"As  to  that,  I  don't  care  about  discussing  the 


72  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

point,"  was  the  reply.  "Our  own  beliefs  are  our  own 
business.  But  I  must  say  that  Etwald  is  a  danger- 
ous man,  both  to  you  and  to  me." 

"I  daresay,"  replied  Maurice,  coolly.  "The 
more  so,  as  I  believe  he  has  stolen  the  devil-stick." 

"What!"  David  made  a  step  forward  and  stared 
at  the  wall.  His  face  was  quite  pale,  and  his  hands 
trembled  in  spite  of  his  efforts  to  control  himself. 

"The  devil-stick  gone!"  he  said,  turning  on  his 
heel.     "Both  you  and  I  must  be  careful,  Maurice." 


A  CRY  IN  THE  NIGHT.  73 


CHAPTER  VIII. 
A  CRY  IN  THE  NIGHT. 

So  far  the  reader  may  wonder  at  the  constituent 
elements  of  this  story.  African  witchcraft,  mys- 
terious strangers,  and  barbaric  women  seem  to  be 
out  of  place  when  set  in  the  sober  framework  of 
an  English  provincial  town.  But  romance  is  not 
dependent  upon  landscape  or  on  surroundings  for 
its  occurrence:  it  is  to  be  found  everywhere,  and 
very  often  in  the  most  unlikely  places.  Here,  for 
instance,  by  some  trick  of  Fate,  certain  people  had 
come  together,  certain  passions  had  been  aroused, 
and  now  that  the  drama  had  been  set  in  motion,  it 
seemed  likely  that  it  would  play  itself  out  to  a 
tragical  conclusion.  Tragical,  certainly;  for  herein 
the  elements  of  comedy  seem  to  be  wanting.  But 
then  Fate  is  so  pessimistic. 

For  a  whole  week  after  the  events  already  related, 
nothing  new  took  place  likely  to  alter  the  situation. 
Maurice  and  David  remained  coldly  polite,  and  very 
watchful  of  one  another;  neither  mentioned  the 
name  of  Isabella,  nor  did  the  one  or  the  other  see 
the  girl.  Mrs.  Dallas  took  care  of  that.  Acting,  no 
doubt,  under  the  advice  of  Dido  (for  she  had  no  will 
of  her  own),  she  kept  Isabella  within  doors,  and 
refused  to  allow  her  to  communicate  with  Maurice. 
But,  on  the  other  hand,  she  did  not  force  her  to  see 


74  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

David;  and  Isabella  was  thankful  for  the  con- 
sideration. 

But  there  was  one  visitor  to  The  Wigwam  whom 
Isabella  would  gladly  have  avoided — no  less  an  indi- 
vidual than  Dr.  Etwald.  After  the  violent  scene 
with  Maurice,  the  widow  so  overtaxed  her  strength 
that  she  became  ill,  and  the  doctor  was  sent  for.  His 
mere  presence  appeared  to  soothe  Mrs.  Dallas,  and 
he  came  frequently.  When  she  could,  Isabella 
absented  herself;  but  this  she  was  not  able  to  do  on 
all  occasions,  and  so  she  had  to  endure  his  compli- 
mentary speeches,  and  the  mesmeric  quality  of  his 
gaze.  This  last,  especially,  was  a  trial  to  one  of  her 
sensitive  organization,  and  one  day  she  felt  so  uncom- 
fortable that  she  remonstrated  with  Etwald. 

"You  make  me  afraid,  doctor,"  she  said,  impetu- 
ously.    "Your  gaze  is  disagreeable  to  me." 

"My  dear  young  lady,"  replied  the  man,  blandly, 
"I  must  look  at  you  when  I  address  you." 

"Then  don't  address  me!" 

"Isabella,  do  not  be  rude!"  cried  Mrs.  Dallas,  who 
had  overheard  this  passage  at  arms;  whereupon  the 
girl,  with  a  defiant  glance  at  her  tormentor,  left  the 
room. 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  know  what  I'll  do  with  Isabella," 
sighed  Mrs.  Dallas;  "she  is  getting  so  disobedient." 

"Perhaps  I  can  assist  you." 

Mrs.  Dallas  looked  uneasily  at  her  medical 
attendant. 

"No,"  she  said,  quietly  "I  may  persuade  her 
into  doing  what  I  want." 


A  CRY  IN  THE  NIGHT.  75 

"Which  is,  to  marry  Mr.  David  Sarby, "  said 
Etwald  coolly.  "In  that  case  I  can  only  hope  that 
the  young  lady  will  continue  obstinate,  as  I  wish  to 
marry  her  myself." 

"I  know — I  know!  But  I  don't  want  her  to  marry 
you,  doctor.  Mr.  Sarby  is  the  man  for  my  daughter. 
He  is  good-looking  and  clever  and — " 

"And  poor!"  finished  Etwald. 

"Well,  yes,"  assented  Mrs.  Dallas,  "there  is  that 
objection.  But  it  is  not  much  of  an  obstacle,  as 
Isabella  has  money.  The  young  couple  can  live  on 
three  thousand  a  year." 

Dr.  Etwald  went  home  with  this  sum  running  in 
his  head,  and  more  than  ever  he  resolved  to  marry 
Isabella.  He  was  in  love  with  her,  and  would  have 
taken  her  without  a  penny;  but  all  the  same,  if  she 
was  an  heiress  in  a  small  way,  it  was  all  the  better. 
The  doctor  was  clever  but  poor,  and  with  an  income 
like  that  he  could  move  to  London  and  do  great 
things.  There  were  many  schemes  in  Etwald's 
head,  and  certain  of  these  he  determined  to  put  into 
execution  at  once,  in  order  to  secure  Isabella  to  wife. 

Some  time  previously  Major  Jen  had  asked  Etwald 
about  the  devil-stick,  but  only  to  be  informed  that 
the  doctor  knew  nothing  of  the  missing  article. 

"I  have  not  set  eyes  on  it  since  that  night  you 
showed  it  tome,"  declared  Etwald,  coolly.  "You 
refused  to  sell  it  to  me,  so  of  course  I  gave  up  all 
idea  of  possessing  it.  All  the  same,"  finished  he, 
politely,  "I  am  sorry  that  it  is  lost." 


76  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

"Lost!  Stolen,  you  mean,"  growled  Jen,  tartly. 
That  negress — " 

"Dido!  Well,  I  admit  that  such  a  barbaric  treas- 
ure would  tempt  her,  the  more  particularly  as  she 
knows  about  such  wizard  instruments.  Ask  her  if 
she  took  it." 

"I  have  done  so,  and  I  have  asked  Mrs.  Dallas 
also,"  replied  Jen;  "but  it  seems  that  Dido  wasn't 
out  of  the  house  on  that  night.  She  was  ill — and, 
oddly  enough,  I  hear,  Etwald,  that  it  was  you  who 
made  her  ill." 

" Really !"  said  Etwald,  quite  self-possessed.  "I 
suppose  Mr.  Alymer  told  you  so.  I  thought  as 
much,"  he  continued,  as  Jen  nodded.  "He  saw  me 
calming  Dido's  agitation  when  I  arrived  to  ask  Mrs. 
Dallas  for  her  daughter's  hand.  This  negress  is 
hysterical,  and  on  that  day  she  happened  to  be  so. 
I  quieted  her,  yet  Mr.  Alymer  accuses  me  of 
having  caused  her  illness." 

"I  don't  know  anything  about  it,  Etwald;  but 
truth  to  tell,  Maurice  does  not  like  you!" 

"Because  I  prophesied  ill  concerning  him!" 

"Oh,  that  was  rubbish,"  said  Jen,  contemptuously. 
"You  didn't  mean  it." 

"Didn't  I!     Wait  and  see!" 

After  which  Etwald  bowed  his  visitor  politely  to 
the  door  of  the  gloomy  old  house  which  he  occupied 
in  Deanminster,  and  Jen  returned  home,  quite 
baffled  as  to  what  could  have  become  of  the  devil- 
stick.  All  his  inquiries  proved  futile,  and  he  was 
unable  even  to  conjecture  how  it  had  disappeared; 


A  CRY  IN  THE  NIGHT.  77 

yet  knowing  its  fatal  qualities,  he  was  in  constant 
dread  lest  it  should  reappear  in  connection  with  a 
tragedy.  Maurice  still  held  to  his  idea  that  Dido 
had  taken  the  wand,  but  Jen's  inquiries  proved  that 
the  negress  had  not  been  out  of  the  house  the  night 
in  question. 

"Then  it  must  have  been  Battersea!"  said  Mau- 
rice, decidedly.  "He  is  a  friend  of  Dido's,  and  a 
pensioner  of  Isabella's.  I'll  find  out  if  he  stole  the 
stick  for  the  negress  or  for  Dr.  Etwald. " 

This  was  easier  said  than  done,  as  Mrs.  Dallas 
would  not  allow  Maurice  to  set  foot  in  the  house. 
Still  Maurice  hoped  to  learn  the  truth  from  the 
tramp  himself,  a  hope  that  proved  futile  also, 
Battersea  had  gone  on  one  of  his  begging  excursions, 
and  for  quite  a  week  was  not  seen  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  "Ashantee. "  Then  he  suddenly  made  his 
appearance  at  the  house,  and  asked  to  see  Maurice. 
On  being  led  into  the  hall,  Alymer  came  out  to 
speak  with  him,  and  alter  a  few  words  he  took  the 
old  man  into  the  library.  Jen,  who  was  rather 
curious  to  know  what  Maurice  might  learn  from 
the  disreputable  old  scamp,  waited  patiently  for  the 
termination  of  the  interview.  As  Alymer  did  not 
reappear,  he  sought  the  library,  and  found  the 
young  man  alone. 

"Where  is  Battersea?"  asked  Jen,  glancing  round. 

"Oh,  he  has  gone  away!" 

"What  did  he  wish  to  see  you  about?" 

"He  had  heard  that  I  accused  him  of  taking  the 


78  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

devil-stick,"  explained  Maurice,  "and  came  here  to 
exculpate  himself." 

"Well!     And  did  he  do  so?" 

"Yes,  he  is  quite  innocent.  He  did  not  take  the 
devil-^tick. " 

"Then  who  did?" 

Maurice  paused,  reflected,  and  looked  anxiously 
at  Jen. 

"I'll  tell  you  that  to-morrow,"  he  said,  after  a 
pause. 

"Why  not  to-night?"  asked  Jen,  sharply. 

"Because  I  have  a  suspicion,  which  I  can  not 
prove  at  present.  Battersea  gave  me  a  hint,  upon 
which  I  am  determined  to  work.  To-night  I  may 
learn  the  truth." 

"From  whom?" 

"Don't  ask  me.  Uncle  Jen;  I  can't  answer  you 
yet." 

Jen  frowned,  then  laughed. 

"Well,  just  as  you  please,"  he  said,  raising  his 
eyebrows,  "but  you  are  as  mysterious  as  David." 

"Why,  what  about  David?"  « 

"Only  this,  that  he  has  gone  up  to  town  without 
bidding  me  good-by,  save  in  this  short  note.  I  can't 
understand  such  conduct." 

"Nor  I,"  said  Maurice,  stretching  out  his  hand. 
"Please  let  me  read  the  note.  Uncle  Jen.  I  wish  to 
see  precisely  how  it  is  worded." 

The  note  which  the  major  handed  over  was  curt 
to  the  verge  of  rudeness.  It  merely  stated  that  the 
writer  had  gone  to  London  for  a  couple  of  days  on 


A  CRY  IN  THE  NIGHT.  79 

business,  and  would  be  back  as  soon  as  possible. 
No  explanation  of  what  the  business  might  be  was 
given.  Maurice  did  not  wonder  than  Jen  was 
annoyed  at  receiving  such  a  missive  from  one  whom 
he  regarded  in  the  light  of  a  son ;  but  in  handing  it 
back  to  the  major  he  excused  the  writer. 

"The  fact  is  David  has  not  been  quite  himself 
since  this  trouble  about  Isabella,"  he  said,  gravely, 
"and  he  thinks  it  best  to  go  away  for  a  time.  You 
know  how  he  tortures  himself  over  trifles." 

"Egad,  this  love  business  of  you  two  young  men 
is  getting  to  be  anything  but  a  trifle,"  said  Jen, 
testily.  "What  between  the  lot  of  you  and  Etwald, 
there  seems  to  be  nothing  but  trouble.  I  wish  you'd 
marry  the  girl,  Maurice,  and  have  done  with  it. ' ' 

"Perhaps  I  may  settle  affairs  sooner  than  you 
think,"  said  Alymer,  rising.  "Uncle  Jen,  I  won't 
be  back  to  dinner  to-night,  as  I  have  to  go  into 
Deanminster." 

"What  about?" 

"Business  connected  with  the  devil-stick  and 
Isabella." 

"H'm!  You  are  pleased  to  be  mysterious.  Why 
not  tell  me  your  business?" 

"Because  I  may  fail,"  said  Maurice.  "Here, 
Uncle  Jen,  don't  be  cross;  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it 
to-morrow,  and  then  you  will  see  and  approve  of  my 
silence  to-night." 

"Well,"  said  Jen,  with  a  shrug,  "you  are  old 
enough  to  guide  your  own  actions.     But  I  must  say 


So  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

that  I  don't  like  to  be  shut  out  of  the  confidence  of 
my  two  boys  in  this  way." 

"You'll  know  everything  to-morrow.' 

"About  David  also?" 

"Perhaps  I  can  even  promise  you  that!"  said 
Maurice,  with  a  smile. 

"What!"  cried  Jen,  "do  you  know  why  David  has 
gone  to  town?" 

"Not  for  certain;  but  I  can  guess.  Now,  Uncle 
Jen,  I  shan't  answer  another  question  just  now,  as  I 
must  go  into  Deanmmster. " 

"Will  you  take  the  dogcart?" 

"No;  1*11  walk." 

"Walk — in  evening  dress?" 

"I'm  not  going  to  put  on  evening  dress,"  said 
Maurice,  impatiently.  "I'll  get  some  dinner  in 
Deanminster,  and  then  go  about  my  business." 

It  was  useless  to  ask  further  questions,  as  Jen  saw 
that  the  young  man  was  getting  irritated ;  so,  in  no 
very  pleasant  temper  himself,  the  major  went  up  to 
his  dressing-room.  He  was  of  a  peace-loving  and 
easy-going  nature,  fond  of  quietness,  so  it  annoyed 
him  not  a  little  that  all  this  disturbance  should  take 
place  on  account  of  a  woman.  "The  sex  is  at  the 
bottom  of  everything,"  said  the  major,  uttering  the 
old  truth  with  conviction. 

David  and  Maurice  both  being  absent,  the  one  in 
London,  and  the  other  at  Deanminster,  Major  Jen 
was  compelled  to  dine  alone.  This  he  disliked 
doing,  so  hurrying  over  his  dinner  with  all  speed, 
he  betook  himself  to  the  smoking-room,  with  a  book. 


A  CRY  IN  THE  NIGHT,  8i 

Here  he  lighted  a  cigar,  chose  a  comfortable  chair 
near  the  open  window,  and  attempted  to  read ;  but 
the  somnolent  influence  of  the  evening  was  upon 
him,  and  before  his  cigar  was  half  done  the  good 
major  was  sound  asleep. 

Outside  a  warm  wind  was  blowing,  and  the  air 
was  filled  with  the  perfume  of  flowers.  In  the 
dark  blue  sky  hardly  a  cloud  could  be  seen,  and  the 
moon,  just  showing  her  orb  above  the  tree-tops, 
flooded  the  still  loveliness  of  the  night  with  wave 
after  wave  of  cold  light.  All  was  full  of  charm, 
spellbound,  as  it  were,  by  the  magic  of  moonlight, 
when  suddenly  a  long,  wild  cry  struck  shuddering 
through  the  silence. 

Accustomed  as  an  old  campaigner  to  sleep  lightly. 
Major  Jen  was  on  his  feet  in  an  instant,  and  again 
heard  that  terrible  shriek.  It  seemed  to  come  from 
the  direction  of  the  high-road,  and  thinking  that 
some  evil  was  being  done,  Jen,  without  loss  of  time, 
raced  across  the  lawn  and  into  the  avenue.  In  a  few 
minutes  he  arrived  at  the  gate,  and  stepped  out  into 
the  white  and  dusty  road :  a  black  mass  was  lying 
some  distance  down,  and  toward  this  ran  Jen  with 
an  indefinable  sense  of  evil  clutching  at  his  heart- 
strings. The  black  mass  proved  to  be  the  body  of  a 
man,  cold  and  still.  Jen  turned  the  corpse  over  and 
recoiled.     The  dead  man  was  Maurice  Alymer. 


82  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 


CHAPTER  IX. 
AFTER  THE  DEED. 

While  the  major,  hardly  able  to  credit  his  own 
eyes,  was  staring  at  the  dead  body  of  his  dear  lad, 
Jaggard,  attracted  also  by  the  strange  cry,  came 
running  up. 

"What  is  it,  sir?"  he  asked,  saluting  Jen  even  in 
that  moment  of  anxiety.  "I  heard  an  awful  cry,  sir, 
and  came  arter  you." 

Jen  pointed  to  the  corpse  but  said  nothing.  Jag- 
gard,  ignorant  of  the  truth,  bent  down  to  place  a 
hand  upon  the  dead  man's  heart.  Then  he  saw  and 
recognized  the  face. 

"Mr.  Maurice!  God,  sir,  what  does  this  mean?" 
he  cried,  aghast  with  sudden  horror. 

"It  means  murder,  Jaggard!"  replied  Jen  in  a 
hollow  voice  which  he  hardly  recognized  as  his 
own.  "Mr.  Maurice  went  to  Deanminster  before 
dinner,  and  now — "  the  major  pointed  again  to  the 
remains. 

"Murder!"  echoed  Jaggard,  his  ruddy  face  grow- 
ing pale.     "And  who,  sir — " 

"I  don't  know — I  can't  say!"  interrupted  his 
master,  impatiently.  "Go  and  get  the  men  to  bring 
down  a  stretcher  for  the  body,  and  send  the  .groom 
for  Dr.  Etwald." 

"Ain't  it  too  late,  sir?" 


AFTER  THE  DEED.  83 

"Do  as  I  tell  you,"  said  Jen,  so  fiercely  that  Jag- 
gard  did  not  dare  to  disobey,  but  ran  off,  leaving 
the  major  alone  with  his  dead. 

The  road  which  ran  past  "Ashantee"  toward  The 
Wigwam  was  lonely  even  in  the  daytime,  and  at  this 
hour  of  the  night — for  it  was  close  upon  nine 
o'clock — it  was  quite  deserted.  Not  a  person  was  in 
sight,  although  the  major  could  see  up  and  down  the 
road  for  a  considerable  distance,  owing  to  the  bright 
moonlight.  He  raised  Maurice — or  rather  all  that 
remained  of  Maurice — in  his  arms,  and  placed  the 
body  on  the  soft  grass  by  the  wayside.  Then  he  sat 
down  and  began  to  think  out  the  reason  for  the 
committal  of  this  cowardly  crime. 

That  it  was  a  crime  he  was  certain,  for  there  was 
no  reasonable  idea  to  suppose  that  Maurice  had 
committed  suicide.  He  had  left  for  Deanminster 
hardly  three  hours  before,  full  of  health  and  spirits ; 
and  now  he  was  dead.  A  dead  body,  a  lonely  road — 
all  the  evidence  of  an  atrocious  assassination 
having  been  committed,  and  not  one  trace  of  the 
assassin.  Undoubtedly  the  twice-uttered  cry  had 
come  from  Maurice,  and  as  Jen  had  raced  out  of  the 
house  after  the  first  time  he  heard  it,  he  must  have 
reached  his  boy  almost  immediately  after  he  died; 
before,  so  to  speak,  the  body  had  time  to  grow  cold. 
Yet  the  strange  part  of  the  affair  was  that  the  body 
was  cold,  and  that  there  did  not  seem  to  be  any  wound 
whereby  the  murder  could  have  been  achieved. 

"I  am  taking  too  much  for  granted,"  muttered 
Major    Jen,    passing    his    hand    across    his   brow, 


84  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

"Maurice  may  not  have  been  killed  after  all.  It  is 
Etwald  and  his  horrible  prophecies  which  have  put 
the  idea  into  my  head.  Let  me  have  a  look  at  the 
poor  lad's  body." 

In  the  bright  moonlight  he  carefully  examined 
the  body,  but  could  find  no  trace  of  any  wound, 
until  he  came  to  the  right  hand.  Here,  in  the 
palm,  he  saw  a  ragged  rent  clotted  with  blood,  but 
it  was  a  mere  scratch  not  likely  to  have  caused 
death,  unless  poison  were — .  Here  Major  Jen 
uttered  an  oath,  and  rose  to  his  feet  with  a  new  and 
terrible  idea  in  his  brain. 

"The  devil-stick,  by  heaven!"  he  said  aloud. 

Again  he  bent  down  and  examined  the  face  and 
hands.  Both  were  swollen  and  discolored;  he  tore 
open  the  shirt  at  the  neck,  and  saw  that  the  young 
man's  breast  was  all  distended  and  bloated. 
Undoubtedly  the  cause  of  death  was  blood-poison- 
ing, and  the  dev^il-stick  had  been  the  instrument 
used  to  effect  the  deed.  But  here  the  problem  pro- 
posed itself:  Who  had  killed  Maurice?  The  person 
who  had  stolen  the  devil-stick!  Who  had  stolen 
the  devil-stick?  The  person  who — Major  Jen  came 
to  an  abrupt  pause.  He  could  think  for  the 
moment  of  no  answer  to  that  question;  but  it  is 
only  fair  to  say  that,  dazed  by  the  terrible  occurrence 
of  his  dear  lad's  death,  Jen  had  not  his  wits  about 
him. 

While  he  was  still  considering  the  affair  in  a  con- 
fused manner  Jaggard  reappeared  with  the  men 
from  "Ashantee"  carrying  a  stretcher.     While  they 


AFTER  THE  DEED.  85 

placed  the  body  of  Maurice  thereon,  the  groom 
bound  for  Deanminster  passed  them  driving  the 
dogcart,  and  Major  Jen  stopped  the  man  to  tell  him 
that  at  all  risk  he  was  to  bring  back  Dr.  Etwald 
with  him.  Jaggard  wondered  at  this,  for  Maurice — 
poor  lad — was  beyond  all  earthly  aid — but  Jen  was 
thinking  of  a  certain  person  who  might  have  com- 
mitted the  crime,  and  he  wished  for  the  aid  of  Dr. 
Etwald  to  capture  that  person.  In  the  meantime 
the  necessities  of  the  case  called  for  the  immediate 
removal  of  the  body  to  "Ashantee. " 

It  was  a  melancholy  procession  which  bore  the 
body  up  to  the  house.  Four  men  carried  the  bier — 
for  it  was  nothing  else  since  it  bore  the  dead  body 
of  a  young  man — and  behind  came  Major  Jen  bowed 
to  the  ground  with  sorrow.  He  could  hardly  believe 
that  Maurice  was  dead — that  he  had  perished  upon 
a  lonely  country  road  by  an  unknown  hand.  But 
that  was  the  question!  Jen  began  to  think  the 
assassin  was  not  unknown;  that  he  had  a  clew  to 
find  the  guilty  one ;  and  he  waited  the  coming  of 
Dr.  Etwald  'with  great  impatience  to  see  what  his 
opinion  was  regarding  the  course  to  be  pursued. 

In  due  time  Etwald  arrived,  for  the  groom  had 
been  fortunate  enough  to  find  him  at  home.  On 
hearing  of  the  affair  he  expressed  the  deepest  con- 
cern, and  putting  all  other  business  on  one  side  he 
came  back  to  "Ashantee"  in  the  dogcart.  Before 
seeing  Jen,  he  went  up  to  Alymer's  room,  and 
examined  the  body  of  the  unfortunate  young  man. 
Having  satisfied  himself  so  far  as  he  was  able,  with- 


86  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

out  making  a  post-mortem  examination,  he  came 
down  to  the  hbrary  where  Jen  awaited  him. 

"Well,  Etwald, "  cried  the  major,  when  he  saw  the 
tall  form  of  the  doctor  at  the  door,  "have  you  seen 
him?" 

"I  have  seen  it,"  corrected  Etwald,  with  profes- 
sional calmness,  "the  poor  fellow  is  dead,  major — 
dead  from  blood-poisoning." 

"I  knew  it;  I  guessed  it — the  devil-stick." 

"That  may  be/'  rejoined  Etwald,  taking  a  seat, 
"but  I  can  not  be  sure.  You  see  neither  you  nor  I 
know  anything  of  the  poison  which  was  in  the 
handle  of  that  African  instrument.     It — " 

"But  what  are  you  talking  of?"  broke  in  Jen,  im- 
petuously. "You  say  that  my  poor  boy  died  from 
blood-poisoning.  How  else  could  he  have  come  by 
that,  save  through  being  touched  or  struck  with  the 
devil-stick?  No  one  in  the  neighborhood  was  likely 
to  possess  any  weapon  likely  to  corrupt  the  blood. 
If  Maurice  had  been  stabbed,  or  shot,  or  if  his  head 
had  been  smashed  in,  I  could  understand  the  crime — 
or  rather  the  motive  for  the  crime — ^better ;  but  as  it 
is,  the  person  who  stole  the  devil-stick  must  have 
killed  him." 

"And  who  stole  the  devil-stick?"  asked  Etwald, 
coolly.  "If  I  forget  not,  major,  you  asked  me  the 
other  day  if  I  did." 

"Yes,  but  I  was  wrong;  I  made  a  mistake." 

"A  mistake  that  under  the  present  dispensation  of 
things  might  prove  awkward  for  me,"  said  Etwald. 
"I  was  no  friend  to  the  dead  man;    I  did  not  like 


AFTER  THE  DEED.  87 

him,  nor  he  me.  We  both  loved  the  same  woman — 
we  were  rivals.  What  then  so  easy  as  for  you  to 
say — foi  a  jury  to  believe — that  I  had  stolen  the 
devil-stick  and  killed  Mr.  Alymer,  so  as  to  get  him 
out  of  my  way." 

"I  never  thought  of  such  a  thing,"  protested  Jen. 
"I  do  not  suspect  you." 

''Then  whom  do  you  suspect?"  asked  Etwald,  fix- 
ing his  dark  eyes  on  the  major. 

"Dido — the  negress,  of  Mrs.  Dallas!" 

Etwald  shook  his  head  and  smiled. 

"But  that  is  ridiculous,"  said  he.  "The  commis- 
sion of  a  crime  presupposes  a  motive.  Now  what 
motive  had  Dido  to  kill  your  friend?" 

"She  hated  Maurice,  and  she  did  not  want  him  to 
marry  Miss  Dallas. " 

"Neither  did  I,  if  I  remember  rightly,"  said 
Etwald,  dryly,  "Besides,  Dido — as  you  proved — 
did  not  steal  the  devil-stick.  However,  if  you  are 
suspicious  of  her,  go  over  to-morrow  and  see  Mrs, 
Dallas.  It  will  be  as  well  to  be  sure  of  your  ground 
before  making  a  public  affair  of  it.  By  the  way,  I 
suppose  you  will  have  a  detective  down  from  Lon- 
don, to  sift  the  affair  to  the  bottom?" 

"I  don't  know;  I'm  not  sure." 

"I  should  if  I  were  you.  Mr,  Sarby  is  in  London. 
Why  not  wire  up  to  him  to  bring  down  a  clever  man 
from  Scotland  Yard?" 

"  If  I  thought  that — .  But, ' '  added  Jen,  breaking 
off,  "how  did  you  know  that  David  was  in  London?" 


88  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

"Oh!"  rejoined  Etwald,  quietly,  "Mr.  Alymertold 
me  so  to-night. ' ' 

"To-night!"  echoed  Jen,  starting  up.  "You  saw 
Maurice  to-night?" 

"Certainly!  About  an  hour  and  a  half  before  he 
was  murdered, ' ' 

"At  Deanminster?" 

"At  my  house' at  Deanminster, "  replied  the  doctor 
with  great  deliberation. 

"So  it  was  you  whom  he  went  to  see  on  business 
to-night?" 

Etwald  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"I  don't  know  if  you  call  it  business,"  he  said, 
after  a  pause.  "I  asked  Mr.  Alymer  to  call  and  see 
me,  and  sent  the  message  by  that  tramp  named 
Battersea. " 

"I  remember  his  coming.     Go  on,  please." 

"Mr,  Alymer  called,  as  I  said,"  continued  Etwald, 
"And  then  I  told  him  that  Miss  Dallas  was  ill  from 
being  prevented  by  her  mother  from  seeing  him. 
That  I  was  sorry  for  the  poor  yoimg  lady,  and  that  I 
gave  up  my  position  as  a  rival.  In  fact,"  added  the 
doctor,  "I  advised  Mr.  Alymer  to  see  Miss  Dallas 
and  marry  her  as  soon  as  he  could. " 

"But  why  did  you  wish  to  act  in-  this  generous 
manner?' ' 

' '  For  the  very  simple  reason  that  Miss  Dallas  is  of  a 
delicate  and  nervous  constitution,"  said  Etwald. 
"If  she  does  not  marry  Mr.  Alymer,  with  whom 
she  is  in  love,  she  may  die.  I  quite  forget  that  I 
should  speak  in  the   past   tense   now,  major.     Mr. 


AFTER  THE  DEEP.  89 

Alymer  is  dead,  and  Miss  Dallas  may  pine  away  of 
grief.  It  was  to  prevent  such  a  catastrophe  from 
occurring  that  I  surrendered  my  claim  to  her  hand. " 

"Very  generous  of  you  indeed,"  said  Jen,  ironi- 
cally ;  but  I  do  not  see  why  you  should  behave  in 
such  a  noble  manner  when  you  were  so  much  in  love 
with  the  girl. ' ' 

"It  is  for  that  reason  that  I  changed  my  mind. 
As  you  know  I  have  been  attending  upon  Mrs.  Dallas 
this  week,  and  I  saw  plainly  enough  that  my  case 
was  hopeless;  that  the  girl  was  dying  to  marry 
Alymer.  Besides,"  added  Etwald,  carelessly,  "the 
mother  was  not  on  my  side.  " 

"She  wants  Isabella  to  marry  David," 

"So  I  hear;  and  he  is  in  town,  as  Mr.  Alymer 
told  me  to-night.  But  what  are  you  going  to  do 
about  the  matter,  major?" 

"Give  notice  to  the  police.  " 

"There  will  be  a  post-mortem,  of  course,"  said 
Etwald,  carelessly. 

"No,  no!  I  hope  not,"  cried  Jen,  horrified  at  the 
idea. 

"But  there  must  be,"  insisted  Etwald,  cruelly. 
"Alyiner  died  of  poison,  and  it  must  be  proved  that 
such  was  the  case.  Then  we  may  learn  if  he  per- 
ished from  the  poison  of  the  devil-stick.  Afterward 
you  must  get  a  detective  to  search  for  the  person 
who  stole  it  from  your  smoking-room.  Once  he  or 
she  is  found,  and  the  assassin  of  your  poor  friend 
will  be  in  custody." 


90  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

"  'He  or  she,'  "  repeated  Jen,  slowly.  "Dido  I 
mentioned;  but  'he!'  who  is  'he?'  '* 

"Ah,  that  is  what  we  wish  to  find  out,"  said  the 
doctor,  gravely.  "But  how  do  I  know?  Battersea 
may  be  the  thief." 

"The  thief  and  the  murderer!" 

"Well,  no,  major.  On  second  thought  I  do  not 
think  it  is  wise  to  couple  those  two  words  as  yet. 
The  thief  may  not  be  the  murderer,  and — but  what 
can  I  say?"  broke  off  Etwald,, suddenly.  "As  yet 
we  know  nothing.  It  is  late,  now,  major,  and  I  must 
get  back.     Shall  I  give  information  to  the  police?" 

"If  you  will  be  so  kind,"  said  the  major,  listlessly, 
and  he  let  the  doctor  go  away  without  another  word. 

All  through  that  long  night  he  knelt  beside  the 
bed  lipon  which  lay  the  corpse  of  the  man  whom 
he  had  loved  as  a  son.  The  bedroom  of  Maurice 
was  on  the  ground  floor  and  the  windows  looked 
out  onto  a  little  lawn,  which  was  girdled  by  thick 
trees  in  which  the  nightingales  were  singing.  The 
sorrowful  songs  of  the  birds,  flitting  in  the  moon- 
light and  amid  the  cloistral  dusk  of  the  trees, 
seemed  to  Jen  like  a  requiem  over  the  young 
life  which  had  passed  away.  The  major  was 
broken-hearted  by  the  sorrow  which  had  come  upon 
him,  and  when  he  issued  from  the  cifamber  of  death 
he  looked  years  older  than  when  he  entered  it.  It 
seemed  to  his  big  loving  heart  as  though  the  woman 
he  loved  had  died  anew  in  the  person  of  her  son. 

Fortunately  he  was  not  forced  to  sorrow  alo^ie ; 
toward  midday  David  arrived  frorn  town,  filled  with 


AFTER  THE  DEED.  91 

grief  and  surprise  at  the  untimely  end  of  Maurice. 
He  found  the  major  in  the  library,  and  grasped  him 
by  the  hand  with  genuine  sorrow. 

"My  poor  uncle,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice.  "I  can- 
not tell  you  what  I  feel.  Etwald  telegraphed  to  me 
the  first  thing  in  the  morning,  and  I  came  down  by 
the  earliest  train  there  was.  Poor  Maurice! — and 
we  parted  in  anger. ' ' 

"More's  the  pity,"  sighed  Jen,  leaning  upon  the 
shoulder  of  Sarby;  "but  you  cherish  no  anger  in 
your  heart  now?" 

"God  forbid,  sir!" 

David  spoke  so  fervidly  that  Jen  saw  plainly  he 
meant  what  he  said.  The  massive  face  of  the  young 
man  looked  worn  and  haggard  in  the  searching 
light  of  the  morning,  and  whatever  enmity  the  love 
of  the  same  woman  had  sown  between  him  and  the 
dead,  it  was  not  to  be  denied  that  he  was  suffering 
cruelly  from  remorse  at  their  unhappy  difference. 
Jen  was  sorry,  but  even  in  his  own  grief  he  could 
not  forbear  a  stab. 

"You  can  marry  Isabella  now,"  he  said,  bitterly. 

"No!"  said  David,  faintly,  turning  his  face  away. 
"At  least  not  yet." 

The  major  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  or  two, 
then,  with  a  new  idea  in  his  head,  he  took  David  by 
the  hand  and  led  him  into  the  chamber  of  death. 

"Swear,"  said  he,  "that  you  will  not  marry  Isa- 
bella Dallas  until  you  have  discovered  and  punished 
the  murderer  of  Maurice." 

David  swore. 


92  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

CHAPTER  X. 
FURTHER  MYSTERY. 

Great  was  the  dismay  throughout  the  countryside 
when  it  became  known  that  Maurice  Alymer  had 
been  murdered.  The  dead  man  was  well  known  in 
drawing-room  and  in  hunting-field,  so  that  there 
was  hardly  a  person  of  consequence  in  the  county 
who  could  not  claim  at  least  a  bowing  acquaintance 
with  him.  Moreover,  Maurice  was  one  of  those 
men  who  are  always  popular,  and  much  sympathy 
was  manifested  for  his  untimely  death.  Also  the 
mysterious  way  in  which  he  had  come  to  his  'end, 
the  absence  of  any  known  motive,  and  the  knowledge 
that  the  deceased  had  no  enemies — all  these  thing's 
combined  to  raise  public  curiosity  to  the  highest 
pitch.  The  inquest  on  the  dead  body  was  awaited 
with  much  anxiety. 

Crowds  of  people  came  from  all  parts  of  the  coun- 
try to  view  the  scene  of  the  crime,  and,  if  possible, 
to  gain  a  glimpse  of  Jen  and  David,  who  as  rela- 
tives— as  it  might  be  said — of  the  deceased  were 
notorious  for  the  time  being;  but  thanks  to  the  pres- 
ence of  the  police  and  the  vigilance  of  Jaggard,  the 
morbid  crowd  of  sight-seers  were  unable  to  gratify 
their  curiosity.  The  two  men  remained  in  seclusion, 
and  saw  no  one  save  Dr.  Etwald.  A  sympathetic 
message  arrived  from  Mrs.  Dallas,  which,  consider- 


FURTHER  MYSTERY.  93 

ing  the  way  she  had  behaved  toward  Maurice,  the 
major  regarded  as  a  gratuitous  insult. 

"Can't  she  let  the  poor  man  rest  in  his  grave?" 
said  Jen,  wrathfully.  "It  is  all  through  her  opposi- 
tion to  the  match  that  this  has  come  about!" 

"Oh,  you  can't  say  that,  Uncle  Jen,"  remonstrated 
David. 

"Yes,  I  can,  sir.  If  Maurice  had  not  been  pre- 
vented from  seeing  Isabella,  there  would  have  been 
no  necessity  for  him  to  call  on  Etwald  at  Deanmin- 
ster;  and  if  he  had  not  done  that  he  would  not  have 
been  on  the  high  road  in  the  night  to  meet  with  his 
death.  Mrs.  Dallas  and  her  infernal  negress  are  at 
the  bottom  of  the  whole  accursed  business." 

Of  course  this  was  mere  raving  on  the  part  of  Jen, 
who  had  no  reason  to  connect  either  woman  with  the 
crime ;  but  the  poor  man  was  beside  himself  with 
grief  at  the  loss  of  Maurice,  and  hardly  knew  what 
he  was  saying.  Being  in  this  frame  of  mind  he  was 
by  no  means  pleased  when  shortly  after  the  delivery 
of  Mrs.  Dallas'  message  Dido  made  her  appearance 
with  a  request  for  a  personal  interview. 

"I  shan't  see  that  black  witch,"  cried  thv.:  poor 
major.     "David — Etwald,  send  her  away. " 

"I  wouldn't  if  I  were  you,  major!"  said  Etwald, 
judiciously;  "she  might  be  the  bearer  of  valuable 
information,  likely  to  lead  to  the  detection  of 
Alymer's  assassin." 

"Then  let  her  see  the  police,  sir,  although  I  don't 
agree  with  you.  She  is  not  the  woman  to  put  a 
rope  round  her  own  neck — black  as  it  is." 


94  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

"But  surely,  Uncle  Jen,  you  don't  look  upon  her 
as  the  guilty  person!" 

"How  do  I  know  who  is  guilty?"  snapped  Jen. 
"I  wish  I  did!  I'd  hang  him  or  her.  But  this  black 
wretch  and  her  confounded  mistress  have  to  do  with 
the  death  of  my  poor  boy,  I  am  certain," 

"I  doubt  it.  But  will  you  see  Dido  or  shall  I  send 
her  away?" 

"Yes — no — yes.  That  is,  I  don't  wish  to  see  her. 
Ask  her  what  she  wants,  David." 

David  left  the  room  and  remained  absent  for  some 
time.  On  his  return  he  stated  that  Dido  had  come 
with  a  message  from  Isabella,  and  that  she  refused 
to  deliver  it  to  anyone  save  the  major.  Seeing  that 
the  negress  was  thus  insistent,  and  wondering  what 
Miss  Dallas  might  want  with  him  at  so  painful  a 
time,  Jen  yielded,  and  Dido  was  admitted  into  the 
library.  She  looked  taller,  more  massive,  and  more 
sullen  than  ever,  and  though  she  trembled  at  the 
sight  of  Dr.  Etwald — who,  by  the  way,  kept  his 
dark  eyes  studiously  fixed  on  her — she  was  fairly 
composed  when  she  addressed  the  major. 

"Mylil  missy  want  you,  sar,"  said  Dido,  going 
straight  to  the  point. 

"What  does  she  want  to  see  me  about? "asked  Jen, 
coldly. 

"I  no  know,  massa.  She  weep!  She  ill!  She 
make  terrible  bobbery,  dat  poo'  girl.  Massa,  come 
an'  see  my  HI  missy  dis  day." 

*  *  I  can't  at  present.     The  police  are  in  the  house ; 


FURTHER  MYSTERY.  95 

there  is  a  lot  to  be  attended  to.  Tell  your  mistress, 
Dido,  that  I  will  see  her  to-morrow." 

' '  She  want  you  to-day, ' '  insisted  Dido,  obstinately. 

"I  have  given  you  the  message,"  said  Jen, 
sharply.  "Tell  her  I'll  see  her  to-morrow.  And 
now.  Dido,  I  want  to  know  what  you  have  to  do 
with  this  crime?" 

"I,  massa!  Ole  Dido  she  do  nuffin.  Massa 
Maurice  he  die  Voodoo !     Oh,  yes. '  * 

"By  that  devil-stick  poison?" 

"Me  don't  know  what  debble-stick  is.  I  no  touch 
him. " 

It  was  clearly  impossible  to  learn  anything  from 
so  obstinate  a  creature,  so  Jen  repeated  that  he 
would  call  upon  Isabella  on  the  morrow,  and  dis- 
missed the  negress.  As  she  left  the  room  Dr. 
Etwald  followed  her,  and  on  his  return  mentioned 
casually  that  he  had  been  giving  Dido  some  instruc- 
tions as  to  what  was  to  be  done  with  Isabella. 

"The  girl  is  nervously  excited,"  he  explained; 
'  'and  now  that  she  has  sustained  this  shock  of  Mr. 
Alymer's  death  there  is  no  knowing  what  complica- 
tions may  ensue." 

"You  don't  think  her  life  is  in  danger?"  asked 
David,  in  a  faltering  tone. 

' '  No ;  but  I  fancy  her  reason  is. ' ' 

Here  Jen  looked  suddenly  at  Etwald,  and  recalled 
the  dinner  at  which  the  doctor  had  read  the  dead 
man's  hand.  Then  he  had  prophesied  ill  of  Maurice 
— an  ill  which  it  would  seem  had  been  fulfilled. 
Now,  with  equal  curtness,  he  was  prognosticating 


96  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

evil  for  Isabella,  Vexed  at  such  croakings,  Jen 
spoke  abruptly: 

"You  are  a  prophet  of  evil,  Etwald,"  said  he. 
"First  my  poor  Maurice,  now  Miss  Dallas." 

"As  to  that, "  replied  Etwald,  with  deliberation, 
"I  foretell  that  Miss  Dallas  may  get  ill  from  per- 
fectly natural  signs.  She  was  in  love  with  Alymer ; 
she  is  of  a  highly  excitable  and  nervous  character, 
so  it  is  easy  to  know  that  unless  great  care  is 
exercised  her  brain  may  be  affected." 

"But  with  regard  to  Maurice?" 

"Quite  a  different  thing.  I  read  in  his  hand  that 
he  would  be  subject  to  a  state  of  life  in  death." 

"Which,  as  we  guessed,  meant  paralysis  or  cata- 
lepsy," said  David.  "But,  as  you  see,  poor  Maurice  is 
dead.     Your  prophecy  was  false. " 

Etwald  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"It  would'  seem  so,"  he  assented.  "Mr.  Aylmer 
is  dead,  as  you  say;  so  the  term  life  in  death  can  not 
be  applied  to  his  present  state  of  non-existence. 
But  you  will  admit  that  I  foretold  that  evil  would 
happen  to  him  if  he  decided  to  marry  Miss  Dallas. 
It  has  turned  out  as  I  thought. " 

"True,  doctor,"  remarked  Jen,  keeping  his  eyes 
fixed  upon  the  swart  face  of  the  other,  "and  is  that  all 
you  have  to  say?" 

"All?  What  else  do  you  expect  me  to  say?" 
demanded  Etwald,  coldly. 

"Say  who  you  think  killed  Maurice." 

"That  is  beyond  my  powers." 

"Then  who  stole  the  devil-stick?" 


FURTHER  MYSTERY.  97 

"I  can't  answer  that  question  either,"  said  the 
doctor,  taking  up  his  hat.  "A  detective  tnay  be 
able  to  assist  you  on  those  points.     Engage  one. ' ' 

"No,"  said  Jen,  linking  David  by  the  arm,  "we 
don't  need  aid  from  the  law  to  learn  who  killed 
Maurice  and  avenge  his  death.  David  and  myself 
will  find  the  guilty  person. ' ' 

"Really!  I  hope  you  will  succeed.  But  a  case  like 
this  requires  a  trained  intelligence  such  as  you  will  find 
in  a  detective.  Of  course  you  may  command  my  serv- 
ices, major,  but  I  am  afraid  you  will  not  succeed." 

"We  shall  see,"  replied  Jen,  who  was  as  obstinate 
as  a  mule  on  some  points.     "I  am  no  fool." 

" Certainly  not,"  rejoined  Etwald,  with  something 
like  a  sneer;  "but  you  are  also  no  detective." 

"That  we  shall  see,"  retorted  the  major,  vexed 
by  the  sarcasm,  and  thereupon  gave  Etwald  to 
understand  by  look  and  manner  that  he  wished  to  be 
alone  with  David.  When  the  doctor  had  taken  him- 
self ofF,  and  was  walking  past  the  library  windows 
toward  the  curve  of  the  avenue  where  it  ran  into 
the  woods,  Jen  looked  after  him  with  a  lowering 
face,  and  laid  an  inquiring  finger  on  David's  arm. 

"Do  you  trust  that  man,  my  boy?"  he  asked, 
gravely. 

"No,"  returned  Sarby,  after  a  pause.  "I  think 
he  is  a  bad  lot. ' ' 

"I  am  sure  of  it,  and  what's  more,"  added  Jen, 
nodding,  "it  is  my  opinion  that  he  knows  who  killed 
Maurice,  if  indeed  he  did  not  do  it  himself." 

David  shook  his  head. 
7 


9^  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

"I  don't  think  so,"  said  he,  with  conviction. 
"Why  should  he  kill  Maurice?" 

"The  lad  was  his  rival." 

"Mine  also,  major.  Yet  you  don't  suspect  me  of 
the  deed." 

"God  forbid  that  my  heart  should  harbor  so  ill  a 
thought,"  cried  Jen,  with  natural  horror.  "But  I 
tell  you  what,  David.  We  must  sift  this  affair  to 
the  bottom.  Maurice  is  dead,  his  assassin  is  at 
large,  so  we  must  catch  him." 

"Him,  Uncle  Jen?" 

"Or  her,"  added  the  major.  "For  all  I  know 
that  black  witch  may  have  something  to  do  with 
the  crime.  Likely  enough,  if  she  knows  how  to 
manipulate  the  devil-stick." 

"But  she  denied  knowledge  of  the  devil-stick." 

"Lies,  lies,  lies!"  said  Jen,  scornfully.  "If  I 
could  only — but  enough  of  this  for  the  time  being, ' ' 
he  added,  abruptly.  "We  will  talk  of  these  things 
on  a  more  fitting  occasion." 

The  hours  dragged  heavily  along  in  that  house  of 
mourning.  The  body  of  the  dead  man  lay  in  the 
little  chamber  which  looked  out  upon  the  laurel- 
encircled  lawn.  It  was  covered  with  a  white  sheet, 
the  hands  were  folded  upon  the  breast,  and  flowers 
had  been  laid  thereon  by  the  major.  Over  the  face 
a  handkerchief  had  been  thrown,  as  the  once  hand- 
some features  were  so  discolored  as  to  be  absolutely 
repulsive  to  the  sight.  There  was  something 
terrible  in  the  rigidity  of  the  long  form,  stretched 
out  so  stiffly  under  the  sheet.  In  the  chamber  candles 


FURTHER  MYSTERY.  99 

were  burning,  and  Jaggard  was  watching  near  the 
corpse.     He  was  to  watch  throughout  the  night. 

On  the  morrow  the  post-mortem  examination  was 
to  take  place,  and  the  inspector  of  police  at  Dean- 
minster  had  left  a  man  in  the  house  to  look  after  the 
interests  of  justice.  As  yet  the  inspector — no  very 
gifted  man  at  the  most — was  doubtful  of  the  proper 
course  to  pursue.  A  crime  had  been  committed; 
the  victim  was  a  well-known  gentleman ;  so  here,  if 
anywhere,  was  a  chance  of  his  covering  himself 
with  glory  by  discovering  the  assassin.  But  Arkel 
— the  inspector  in  question — had  only  experience  in 
bucolic  crimes  of  the  rick-burning  order,  or,  at  the 
worst,  the  poker  murders  of  laborers.  The  subtlety 
with  which  this  deed  had  been  accomplished  baffled 
him.  He  could  not  grasp  the  idea  of  the  devil-stick, 
or  even  take  in  the  mode  of  the  death.  If  Arkel 
were  to  be  the  avenger  of  Alymer's  death  the 
assassin  ran  an  excellent  chance  of  getting  off  scot 
free. 

David  retired  early  to  bed,  as  he  was  quite  worn 
out  with  the  anxieties  of  the  day ;  but  Jen  was  too 
grieved  to  sleep.  He  remained  in  the  library, 
thinking  over  his  great  loss  and  wondering  what 
wretch  could  have  taken  that  young  life.  Toward 
twelve  o'clock  he  went  to  the  kitchen  and  had  a 
short  conversation  with  the  policeman,  who  was  a 
stupid,  bucolic  youth  with  no  more  brains  than  a 
pumpkin.  Afterward  he  sought  the  chamber  of 
death  to  see  that  Jaggard  was  not  sleeping  at  his 
post.     Finally,  like  the  good  old  soldier  he  was,  Jen 


lOO  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

went  round  the  house  to  satisfy  himself  that  the 
windows  and  doors  were  bolted  and  barred.  All 
these  things  done,  he  returned  to  the  library. 

At  first  he  read  and  smoked,  then  he  paced  up  and 
down,  thinking  of  his  dead  lad,  and  finally,  as  the 
hands  of  the  clock  drew  to  midnight,  he  threw  him- 
self into  a  chair,  and  worn  out  in  body  and  in  mind, 
the  old  man  slept  profoimdly.  Hour  after  hour 
passed  in  silence ;  the  moon  set  and  the  night  grew 
darker,  as  the  wind  rose  and  moaned  through  the 
woods  round  the  house.  Save  the  muttering  of  the 
breeze  and  the  ticking  of  the  clock  not  a  sound  was 
to  be  heard  in  that  silent  room  wherein  Jen  slept 
heavily. 

Suddenly  he  woke  with  a  start.  Somebody  was 
rapping  gently  on  the  shutters  of  the  middle 
window.  Glancing  at  the  clock,  Jen  saw  that  it  was 
three  in  the  morning,  and  wondering  who  could  be 
outside  at  so  untimely  an  hour,  he  rose  to  open  the 
window.  With  care,  begotten  by  old  experience, 
he  picked  up  his  revolver  and  held  it  ready  while 
unbolting  the  window  shutters.  When  they  were 
thrown  open  he  saw  a  white  figure  with  outstretched 
hands  standing  before  the  window. 

"Good  Lord,  Miss  Dallas!  You  here?  At  this 
hour ! ' ' 

"Yes,  yes,"  whispered  the  girl,  stepping  into  the 
room.  "I  got  out  of  my  bedroom  window  and 
escaped  from  my  mother  and  Dido.  I  want  to  see 
Maurice." 

"Butif  you— " 


FURTHER  MYSTERY.  lOl 

"Maurice!  Maurice!"  interrupted  the  girl,  wildly. 
"Take  me  to  the  dead  chamber." 

Seeing  from  her  looks  that  she  was  too  distraught  to 
be  argued  with,  Jen  led  her  out  of  the  library  and 
into  the  dead  man's  room.  Then  he  uttered  a  cry, 
which  was  echoed  by  a  wild  shriek  from  the  girl. 

The  bed  was  empty — the  corpse  was  gone. 


I02  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

CHAPTER   XL 
MAJOR  JEN,  DETECTIVE. 

Astounded  and  horrified,  the  major,  with  Isabella 
Dallas  clinging  to  his  arm,  stood  staring  at  the 
empty  bed.  The  candles  were  still  burning,  but 
Jaggard  had  fallen  from  his  chair  and  was  lying,  a 
huddled  heap,  upon  the  floor.  The  one  window  of 
the  room  was  wide  open,  and  the  wind — now  blow- 
ing freely — was  shaking  a  loose  shutter  to  and  fro. 
The  shock  of  the  discovery  was  so  terrific  that  Jen 
for  once  in  his  life  lost  his  presence  of  mind.  He 
was  recalled  to  his  senses  by  the  wild  voice  of 
Isabella. 

"Maurice!  Maurice!  Where  is  he?"  she  cried, 
leaving  the  major  and  rushing  toward  the  empty 
bed.  "You  said  he  was  here — my  poor  dead  love; 
but  I  can't  see  him.     Where  is  he?    Where  is  he?" 

"God  knows!"  stammered  Jen,  turning  his  horri- 
fied gaze  on  the  poor  girl.  He  did  not  know  what 
to  do.  Isabella  was  in  a  dangerous  state  of  hysteria. 
She  had  on  but  a  loose  white  dressing-gown,  and 
her  presence  in  the  house  at  three  o'clock  in  the 
morning  was  enough  to  overpower  Jen's  sense  of 
the  reasonable,  independent  of  the  crowning  horror 
of  the  missing  corpse.  At  this  juncture  the  much- 
needed  aid  came  from  without.  David  Sarby  rushed 
into  the  room. 


MAJOR  JEN,  DETECTIVE.  103 

He  was  half-clothed,  pale  as  the  white  dress  of 
Isabella  Dallas,  and  evidently,  from  the  wild  look  in 
his  eyes  and  the  quivering  of  his  nether  lip,  badly 
scared.  Stopping  short  a  few  paces  from  the  door, 
he  held  up  the  lamp  which  he  carried,  to  survey  the 
astonishing  scene  before  him.  The  sight  of  Jen 
tongue-tied  and  immovable,  of  Isabella  weeping  on 
her  knees  by  the  bedside,  of  the  bed  itself  vacant  of 
its  dead  occupant — all  these  things  were  calculated 
to  shock  even  stronger  nerves  than  those  of  David 
Sarby.  Nevertheless,  after  a  pause  of  sheer  astonish- 
ment, he  managed  to  stammer  out  a  question : 

"Did — did  she  cry  out?"  he  asked,  nodding  toward 
the  girl.     "I  heard  a  shriek. " 

His  presence  and  question  unlocked  the  major's 
tongue. 

"Yes,"  he  replied,  in  a  hesitating  manner,  as  of 
one  unused  to  speech.  ''She  came  to  the  library 
window  ten  minutes  ago,  having  escaped  from  the 
custody  of  her  mother  and  Dido.  Quite  hysterical, 
as  you  see,  and  bent  upon  seeing  our  poor  dead  lad. 
To  pacify  her  I  brought    her,    but   as  you   see — " 

"The  body  is  gone!"  cried  David,  hurrying  toward 
the  bed. 

"Gone!  gone!"  moaned  Isabella,  rising.  "Oh, 
my  dear,  dead  lover.  " 

"Jaggard!" 

"There,"  said  Jen,  pointing  to  the  inanimate  form 
of  his  old  servant.     "He  is  asleep  or  dead.' ' 

"Dead!"  wailed  Isabella,  catching  at  the  word, 
"Maurice  dead!" 


104  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

"We  must  alarm  the  house,"  cried  Sarby,  in  a 
horrified  tone,  and  thereupon  walked  swiftly  toward 
the  door.  But  before  he  could  reach  it  the  major, 
having  recovered  his  presence  of  mind,  seized  him 
by  the  arm. 

"No,  no!"  said  Jen,  hastily.  "Do  not  bring  any 
one  here  as  yet,  David.  We  must  think  of  this  poor 
girl.  Take  her  home  at  once.  When  you  are  both 
out  of  the  house  I  shall  give  the  alarm.  You  under- 
stand— no  one  must  know  that  Miss  Dallas  has  been 
in  my  house  at  this  hour. " 

"I  quite  agree  with  you,"  said  David,  simply, 
and,  turning  to  Isabella,  he  took  her  gently  by  the 
hand.  "Come,  Miss  Dallas.  This  is  noplace  for 
you." 

' '  Maurice !"  muttered  Isabella,  looking  piteously  at 
him, 

"Maurice  is  not  here.  Come,  Miss  Dallas,  let  me 
take  you  back  to  your  mother. ' ' 

"My  mother  is  so  cruel,"  said  Isabella  in  a  low 
tone,  "and  I  feel  so  ill,"  she  continued,  raising  her 
hand  to  her  loose  hair.  "Yes,  yes;  I  must  go  home. 
But  Maurice — my  dear  Maurice." 

"I  shall  tell  you  all  about  it  to-morrow,"  answered 
Jen,  soothingly,  and  led  her  out  of  the  room.  "At 
the  present  moment  you  must  go  home  with  Mr. 
Sarby.  David,  there  is  a  loose  cloak  of  mine  in  the 
hall.  Wrap  it  round  her  and  come  into  the  library. 
It  is  best  that  she  should  leave  in  the  way  she  came, ' ' 

David  did  as  he  was  told,  and  snatched  up  his 
own  ulster  after  wrapping   up    Isabella.     In    the 


MAJOR  JEN,  DETECTIVE.  105 

library  they  found  the  major  reopening  the  shutters 
of  the  window,  which  he  had  closed  on  the  girl's 
entry.  When  he  flung  them  aside  a  gust  of  wind 
blew  inward,  sprinkling  him  with  moisture. ' ' 

"Rain,"  said  Jen,  drawing  back,  "All  the  better; 
there  will  be  no  spies  about,  and  you  can  take  Miss 
Dallas  home  without  being  observed." 

Taking  the  girl  by  the  hand,  David  led  her  toward 
the  window.  She  was  in  a  half-dazed  condition,  the 
result  of  the  strong  excitement  which  had  impelled 
her  to  make  this  midnight  visit,  and  her  nerves 
being  thus  dulled,  she  surrendered  herself  passively 
to  the  guidance  of  David.  Only  at  the  window  did 
she  pause  and  look  steadfastly  at  the  major. 

"You  must  find  out  what  has  become  of  my  dear 
Maurice's  body,"  she  said,  quietly. 

"I  promise  you,"  replied  Jen,  with  a  look  of  stern 
determination  in  his  face. 

"And  you  will  let  me  know?" 

"I  promise  you,"  said  Jen  again.  "Please  go. 
Miss  Dallas.  There  is  no  time  to  be  lost,  and  you 
must  not  be  found  here.  " 

.Thus  entreated,  Isabella  stepped  out  into  the 
night,  and  in  a  moment  or  so  she  was  swallowed  up 
in  the  darkness  with  her  companion.  Left  alone, 
the  major  closed  the  window,  bolted  and  barred  the 
shutters,  and  then  hastened  back  to  the  death  cham- 
ber, where  he  rang  the  bell.  In  a  few  minutes  the 
footman,  half-dressed  and  half-asleep,  made  his 
appearance ;  then  came  the  policeman  hastily  from 
the    kitchen;    finally,    as   the    bell   still   continued 


io6  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

ringing,  all  the  other  servants,  male  and  female, 
poured  into  the  room.  A  single  glance  showed 
them  what  had  occurred — the  insensible  Jaggard,  the 
empty  bed,  the  open  window.  A  babel  of  voices 
ensued. 

"Silence,  all  of  you,"  cried  Jen,  authoritatively. 
"We  must  act,  not  talk.  Two  of  you  take  Jaggard 
to  his  room.  Tell  the  groom  to  ride  at  once  to 
Deanminster  for  Dr.  Etwald  and  Inspector  Arkel. 
Sampson,"  he  added,  turning  to  the  policeman,  who 
was  stolidly  staring  at  the  empty  bed,  "rouse  your- 
self. Take  lanterns  and  search  for  footmarks. 
There^  must  have  been  more  than  one  person  to 
caiTy  off  a  dead  body. " 

These  directions  were  obeyed  at  once.  The 
house,  the  grounds,  the  whole  wild  night  with  its 
driving  tempest  became  radiant  with  lights  and 
alive  with  terrified  men.  That  a  human  being 
should  be  murdered  was  sufficiently  ghastly  without 
this  crowning  horror  of  a  missing  body  coming 
after.  Every  man  looked  on  his  fellow  with  suspi- 
cion; in  the  yellow  light  of  the  lanterns,  dimly 
through  the  steady  downpour  of  rain,  could  be  seen 
pallid  faces  and  scared  expressions.  And  while  the 
men  folk  scoured  the  house,  the  park,  and  the 
adjacent  lanes  environing  "Ashantee,"  the  female 
servants,  unnerved  and  hysterical,  crowded  together 
in  the  kitchen,  whispering  over  hastily  prepared  tea. 
It  was  a  wild  night,  and  full  of  the  vague  horrors  of 
death  and  mystery. 

Etwald  came  immediately  from  Deanminster  in 


MAJOR  JEN,  DETECTIVE.  107 

company  with  Arkel,  whom  this  last  extraordinary 
event  took  entirely  by  surprise.  He  questioned 
Sampson — the  young  policeman  left  in  charge — he 
searched  the  chamber  of  death,  stepped  out  of  the 
window  and  across  the  lawn  toward  the  belt  of 
laurels  which  divided  the  lawn  from  a  winding  and 
tortuous  lane.  This,  a  tenebrous  pathway  even  in 
the  noonday,  slipped  eel-like  through  darkling  trees 
to  emerge  into  the  high  road  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
away.  Arkel  was  so  long  absent  that  Jen  could 
only  surmise  that  he  had  gone  into  this  outward 
darkness,  and  on  the  inspector's  return  it  appeared 
that  the  major  was  right  in  his  conjecture.  Further- 
more Arkel  brought  back  certain  news. 

"Without  doubt  the  body  was  taken  out  through 
the  window,"  he  said  to  Jen.  "The  flower-bed 
beneath  the  lattice  is  trampled  down.  It  was  carried 
across  the  lawn — for  I  could  see  by  the  light  of  the 
lantern  the  footmarks  of  four  feet — and  through  the 
bushes  into  the  lane.  The  way  can  be  traced  easily 
enough  to  that  point ;  but  it  is  too  dark  to  note  any 
further  sign." 

"Nothing  more  can  be  done  to-night,"  said  Jen, 
gloomily.  "The  men  have  returned  dead  tired, 
but  they  have  seen  nothing  and  no  one." 

"Where  were  you  when  the  body  was  stolen?" 

"Sleeping  in  the  library.  I  saw  that  all  was  safe 
about  midnight,  and  then  sat  down  over  a  book  and 
fell  asleep.     I  woke  somewhere  about  three — ' ' 

"You  are  sure  it  was  that  hour?" 

' '  Certain.    I  heard  the  hall  clock  strike.    On  waking 


io8  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

I  went  into  the  room  where  the  dead  body  was  laid 
out  to  assure  myself  that  all  was  well.  I  found  the 
bed  empty,  the  window  open,  and  Jaggard  insensi- 
ble." 

"Did  you  hear  any  noise?" 

"None  at  all.  But  the  wind  and  rain  were  wild 
outside,  so  that  they  may  have  drowned  the  noise 
made  by  those  who  broke  in.  " 

"We  must  question  your  servant,"  said  Arkel, 
having  noted  the  major's  answers  in  his  pocket- 
book.     "He  was  stunned,  I  believe?" 

"I  can't  say.  I  haven't  examined  him.  Stunned 
or  drugged,  I  suppose. ' ' 

"And  where  is  Mr.  Sarby?"  asked  the  inspector, 
as  they  turned  to  leave  the  room. 

The  major  was  prepared  for  this  question,  and  as 
he  did  not  intend  that  the  visit  of  Isabella  to  the 
house  should  become  known  to  the  police,  he 
answered  it  in  a  guarded  fashion. 

' '  Mr.  Sarby  went  out  as  soon  as  we  discovered  the 
loss,  and  he  has  not  yet  returned. " 

"Was  he  with  you  when  you  made  the  discovery?" 

"No.  He  had  retired  to  bed,"  rejoined  Jen. 
' '  But  as  soon  as  I  saw  what  had  taken  place  I  called 
him  up,  and  he  jumped  through  the  window  to  see 
if  he  could  espy  an)'  traces  of  the  robbers.  Then  the 
servants  came,  and  I  sent  for  you." 

Inspector  Arkel,  who  could  not  see  one  inch 
beyond  his  nose,  was  quite  satisfied  with  this 
explanation,  and  nodded  in  reply.  He  left  the  room 
with  the  major  to  seek  out  Jaggard,  and,  if  possible, 


MAJOR  JEN,  DETECTIVE.  109 

to  learn  from  him  what  had  occurred.  But  this  they 
were  unable  to  do.  The  man  had  been  stunned  by 
a  blow  on  the  head,  and  was  quite  insensible. 

"And  yet  he  was  a  strong  man,"  said  Etwald, 
when  he  conveyed  this  intelligence.  "He  must 
have  been  taken  by  surprise. ' ' 

"Undoubtedly,"  asserted  Jen,  readily.  "But  he 
must  also  have  been  asleep,  else  he  would  have 
called  out  as  the  men  burst  through  the  window. ' ' 

"How  do  you  know  there  were  more  than  one?" 
asked  Etwald,  in  a  jesting  tone. 

' '  Because  Maurice  was  an  unusually  heavy  man, ' ' 
replied  the  major,  "and  he  could  not  have  been 
carried  oiT — that  is,  his  body  could  not  have  been 
carried  off,"  he  corrected,  with  a  sigh,  "unless  by 
two  men.  There  may  have  been  three,  for  all  I 
know.  But  what  is  the  meaning  of  it  all?"  cried 
Jen,  in  bewildered  dismay.  "Why  was  the  poor 
lad's  body  stolen?" 

"Resurrectionists!"  suggested  Arkel;  whereupon 
Major  Jen  shuddered. 

"For  God's  sake,  don't  even  hint  at  such  a  thing," 
he  cried,  vehemently.  .  "It  would  be  too  terrible ; 
and,  as  it  happens,  quite  unbelievable.  It  is 
incredible  that  such  a  thing  could  occur  nowadays. ' ' 

"It  is  incredible  that  such  a  thing  as  the  theft  of 
a  body  should  occur,"  said  Etwald-,  dryly.  "Yet  it 
has  taken  place.  But  where  is  Mr.  Sarby?  I  should 
think  that  he  would  be  present  to  aid  you."  Jen 
was  just  about  to  repeat  his  feigned  explanation 
regarding  David's  absence,  when  the  door  opened, 


no  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

and  the  young  man,  wet  and  exhausted,  entered  the 
room.  To  give  him  his  cue,  the  major  spoke  to  him 
at  once. 

"You  are  just  in  time,  David,  as  I  was  telling 
these  gentlemen  about  your  hunt  after  those 
wretches.     Did  you  see  anyone?" 

"I  saw  nothing,"  said  David,  wearily.  "God 
knows  what  has  become  of  the  body!" 

"Have  you  any  theory,  Mr.  Sarby?" 

"No,  doctor!  I  am  too  weary  to  frame  theories  at 
this  hour  of  the  night.  But,  no  doubt,  Mr.  Inspector 
yonder,  can — " 

"Certainly  not,"  interrupted  Arkel,  sharply.  "I 
can  prove  nothing.     I  am  quite  puzzled." 

"And  no  wonder,"  said  Etwald,  counting  off 
events  on  his  fingers.  "The  devil-stick,  the  murder, 
the  theft  of  the  body.  This  is  a  catalogue  of  hor- 
rors. A  man  might  do  worse  than  write  a  story  on 
these  things." 

"I  agree  with  you!"  remarked  the  major,  sharply. 
"A  man  might  make  a  jest  of  these  horrors — as 
you  are  doing." 

"I  assure  you  I  never  felt  less  like  jesting  in  my 
life,"  replied  Etwald,  coldly.  "But  it  is  no  use  dis- 
cussing such  a  thing  at  five  in  the  morning.  If  you 
can  do  without  me,  major,  I  shall  return  to  Dean- 
minster.     I  am  tired. " 

"But  Jaggard?"  asked  David,  rising  stiffly  from 
his  chair. 

"He  is  all  right  for  the  time  being.  I  have 
detailed  a  housemaid  as  nurse,  and  she  knows  what 


Major  JEN,  DETECTIVE.  nt 

to  do.  I'll  come  back  again  in  the  morning  and  see 
if  he  has  recovered  his  senses." 

When  Etwald  took  his  departure,  Major  Jen  sent 
David  to  bed,  in  spite  of  the  young  man's  remon- 
strances, but  remained  up  himself  to  talk  to  Arkel. 
For  a  long  time  Jen  discussed  the  matter  with  the 
inspector,  but  the  conversation  proved  extremely 
unsatisfactory.  Arkel  was  not  a  clever  detective, 
or  even  a  keen-witted  man,  and  in  a  case  like  the 
present — difficult  and  involved — he  was  quite  at  a  loss 
how  to  proceed.  Finally,  Major  Jen  dismissed  him 
in  despair,  and  while  Arkel  went  to  see  his  men,  who 
were  posted  round  the  house — a  clear  case  of  shut- 
ting the  stable-door  after  the  steed  was  stolen — ^Jen 
remained  alone  to  think  of  what  he  should  do.  "I 
must  be  my  own  detective,"  he  thought,  pacing  the 
library.  "This  man  is  a  fool.  He  will  find  out 
nothing,  and  I  won't  have  even  the  satisfaction  of 
burying  the  body  of  my  poor  lad.  I  must  do  the 
work  myself,  with  the  assistance  of  David.  To  find 
out  who  stole  the  devil-stick ;  that  is  the  first  step. 
To  discover  who  killed  Maurice ;  that  is  the  second 
step.  To  learn  who  carried  away  his  body;  that  is 
the  third  step.  Three  very  difficult  things  to  find 
out,  and  I  don't  see  where  to  begin.  I  must  learn 
all  I  can  about  Maurice's  past  life,  for  he  may  have 
enemies  of  whom  I  know  nothing.  Once  I  learn 
who  his  enemies  are — if  he  had  any — and  I  may  dis- 
cover the  truth.  I  shall  go  and  sleep,  and  when  I 
awaken  I  shall  set  to  work  to  solve  these  mysteries. " 

As  he  spoke  the  major  unbarred  the  shutters  of  the 


112  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

window.    The  rain  had  ceased,  the  dawn  was  break- 
ing, and  the  terrible  night  was  at  an  end. 

"It  is  an  omen!"  said  the  major,   "an  omen  of 
good!" 


THE  STRANGE  PERFUME.  113 


CHAPTER  XII. 
THE  STRANGE  PERFUME. 

The  sensation  caused  by  the  news  that  the  dead 
body  of  Maurice  Alymer  had  been  stolen  was  even 
greater  than  that  occasioned  by  the  discovery  of  the 
murder.  Even  the  London  papers  took  up  the 
matter,  and  sent  down  reporters  to  make  investiga- 
tions and  build  up  theories  as  to  the  reason  of  this 
strange  disappearance.  Everywhere  people  were 
talking  of  the  matter,  and  giving  their  opinions  as 
to  the  proper  course  to  be  pursued  in  recovering  the 
corpse.  Would-be  detectives  hatmted  the  roads  and 
lanes  around  "Ashantee";  they  would  have  pene- 
trated into  the  park  itself  but  for  the  vigilance  of 
Major  Jen, 

His  attitude  at  this  moment  was  rather  displeasing 
to  his  friends.  He  refused  to  permit  anyone  to  see 
the  chamber  whence  the  body  had  been  stolen,  and 
even  declined  to  discuss  the  matter  or  accept  advice 
as  to  the  best  thing  to  be  done.  To  all  who  spoke 
to  him — and  these  were  many — he  had  but  one 
reply. 

"I  know  what  I  am  doing,"  he  would  say,  a  trifle 

tartly,  "and  I  prefer  to  keep  my  own  counsel.     If 

the  murderer  of  my  dear  boy  can  be  found,  he  or 

she  will  be  found  by  me.     If  the  wretch  who  stole 
8 


114  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

his  body  can  be  discovered,  I  am  the  man  to  make 
that  discovery.  How  I  intend  to  set  about  it  is  my 
own  affair. ' ' 

Of  course,  busybodies,  who  saw  their  well-meant 
but  meddlesome  advice  thus  rejected,  were  by  no 
means  pleased,  and  some  even  went  so  far  as  to  say 
that  the  shock  of  death  and  disappearance  had 
unsettled  Jen's  reason.  They  spoke  to  David  and 
counseled  him  to  look  well  after  his  guardian,  and 
said  also  that  the  major,  if  he  had  his  senses  about 
him,  which  was  doubtful,  should  engage  a  smart 
London  detective  to  investigate  the  case.  But,  as 
has  been  before  stated,  Jen  had  concluded  to  be  his 
own  detective. 

It  must  be  conceded  that  for  an  amateur,  the 
major  set  about  his  unaccustomed  task  in  a  very 
methodical  manner.  He  offered  a  reward  of  five 
hundred  pounds  for  the  detection  of  the  murderer, 
and  a  further  sum  of  the  like  amount  to  anyone  who 
should  discover  the  thief  who  had  desecrated  the 
chamber  of  death.  These  munificent  rewards  set 
everybody  on  the  alert,  and  Jen,  without  putting 
down  actual  money,  thus  became  possessed  of 
some  hundreds  of  spies  who  would  bring  him  any 
information  likely  to  assist  him  in  his  investiga- 
tion. Also,  the  major  examined  all  the  servants 
in  the  house.  He  questioned  Sampson,  the  young 
policeman  who  had  been  in  the  kitchen  on  the  night 
when  the  body  had  been  stolen,  and  finally  he  paid 
a  visit  to  the  police  office  at  Deanminster,  where 
he  saw  Mr.  Inspector  Arkel. 


THE  STRANGE  PERFUME.  115 

"Well,  Arkel,"  said  Jen,  after  the  first  greetings 
were  over,  "have  you  any  clew?" 

"No,  major,"  replied  Arkel,  rather  gruffly,  for 
disappointment  was  beginning  to  tell  on  his  temper, 
"nor  are  we  likely  to  find  any  until  that  servant  of 
yours  regains  his  senses.     How  is  he  now?" 

"In  a  state  of  high  fever,  poor  soul,"  said  Jen, 
with  a  depressed  look.  ''He  does  nothing  but  rave. 
Yet,  in  all  his  wild  talk  he  never  lets  slip  a  single 
word  likely  to  help  us. ' ' 

"That's  a  pity,  major.  By  the  way,  I  questioned 
Dr.  Etwald  about  the  matter,  and  he  is  of  opinion 
that  the  man  was  stunned  by  a  blow  on  the  head. ' ' 

"I  know  that.  I  can  only  suppose  that  Jaggard 
fell  asleep  at  his  post  and  woke  up  in  time  to  see  the 
men  getting  in  by  the  window.  A  struggle  would 
then  ensue,  and  he  would  be  struck  on  the  head,  as 
Etwald  supposes. ' ' 

"I  don't  agree  with  that  theory.  There  are 
flaws  in  it." 

"Yes?"  queried  Jen,  eagerly.  "I  am  open  to 
correction.     Please  go  on." 

"We  will  proceed  on  the  questions  and  answers 
system,"  said  Arkel,  precisely,  "and  thrash  out  the 
matter  in  that  way.  You  were  in  the  library  on 
that  night?" 

"Yes,  I  saw  all  was  right  in  the  house  at  twelve 
o'  clock,  and  I  slept  on  in  my  chair  from  that  hour 
until  three." 

"Good,     Then  between  twelve  and  three  the  body 


ii6  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

must  have  been  stolen.  You  are  a  light  sleeper,  I 
heard  you  say,  major?" 

"Well,  yes,"  returned  Jen,  with  a  thought  upon 
the  rapping  of  Isabella  upon  the  window.  "It 
does  not  take  miich  to  waken  me. ' ' 

"You  would  have  heard  Jaggard  call  out,  I  sup- 
pose?" 

"Certainly.  The  bedroom  is  no  great  distance 
from  the  library,  and  the  door  of  the  latter  was 
open.     But  then  Jaggard  didn't  cry  out!" 

"Precisely,"  said  Arkel,  laying  his  forefinger  on 
Jen's  chest  with  an  air  of  triumph.  '  'He  did  not 
cry  out.  Had  he  been  asleep  and  woke  up  in  time 
to  see  the  robbers  get  in  by  the  window,  he  would 
have  called  out  at  once  for  assistance." 

"True  enough,"  rejoined  the  major,  struck  by 
this  sensible  deduction.  "Still,  he  might  not  have 
heard  them  forcing  the  window. ' ' 

"I  doubt  that,  I  doubt  that.  Jaggard,  like  your- 
self, is  an  old  campaigner,  and  no  doubt  an  alert 
sleeper;  that  is,"  explained  Arkel,  "he  would  wake 
up  at  the  least  sound. " 

"Yes,  I  think  he  would.  But  what  does  all  this 
tend  to?" 

"Simply  to  a  theory  I  have  in  my  head.  Jaggard 
was  drugged,  sir." 

"But  the  wound  at  the  back  of  the  head  which 
stunned  him?" 

"There  you  have  it,"  cried  Arkel,  with  a  nod. 
"The  wound  at  the  back  of  the  head  was  caused  by 
his  falling  like  a  log  when  he  was  drugged. ' ' 


THE  STRANGE  PERFUME.        117 

"H'm!  This  is  all  building  on  sand,"  said  Jen, 
doubtfully.  *  'Even  to  drug  him,  these  men  must 
have  entered  by  the  window. ' ' 

"No.  Do  you  not  remember  when  we  examined 
the  window  that  it  was  opened  from  the  inside?" 

"Egad,  you  are  right.  Then  you  think  that 
someone  must  have  been  concealed  in  the  room, 
and  sprung  out  from  hiding  to  drug  Jaggard. " 

"No,"  said  Arkel  again,  "no  one  was  concealed 
in  the  room." 

"Confoimd  it,  man,  you  don't  mean  to  say  that 
Jaggard  opened  the  window?"  cried  Jen,  starting 
from  his  seat  with  some  show  of  temper. 

"Ay,  but  I  do,  major.  Jaggard  helped  to  steal 
the  body  of  Mr.  Alymer.  He  opened  the  window 
to  admit  his  accomplices.  When  they  fulfilled  their 
task  and  got  the  body  out  of  the  room  they  turned 
on  Jaggard  and  betrayed  him.  That  is,  they 
drugged  him  and  knocked  him  down, ' ' 

"I don't  agree  with  you  at  all,  Arkel.  Jaggard  is 
perfectly  honest  and  was  as  devoted  to  Maurice  as 
he  is  to  me.  Besides,  even  granting  the  possi- 
bility of  such  a  thing,  which  I  do  not  in  the  least, 
why  should  Jaggard's  accomplices  betray  him?" 

'*^I  can't  say,"  returned  Arkel,  shrugging  his 
shoulders.  "They  may  have  been  bribed  to  steal 
the  body,  and  on  accomplishing  their  task  did  not 
want  to  share  the  bribe  with  Jaggard." 

"Rubbish!"  said  Jen,  tartly.  "They  must  have 
known  that  he  would  betray  them  when  he  recovered 
his  senses!" 


ii8  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

"No  doubt.  But  in  the  meantime  they  would 
make  themselves  scarce.  Jaggard  has  been  insen- 
sible or  raving  for  over  a  week,  major.  The  scoun- 
drels counted  on  that!" 

"I  say  again  that  I  believe  in  Jaggard' s  honesty, 
and  I  do  not  agree  with  you,"  said  Jen,  putting  on 
his  hat,  "and  after  all,  I  do  not  see  how  you  deduce 
this  drugging  theory!" 

"Oh,  as  to  that,  I  was  once  a  bit  of  a  chemist," 
explained  Arkel;  "and  when  you  took  me  to  see 
Jaggard  I  smelt  a  curious  perfume  which  seemed  to 
be  hanging  about  him.  As  a  servant  is  not  likely 
to  use  perfumes,  I  thought  it  curious. ' ' 

"What  kind  of  a  perfume?" 

"I  can't  exactly  describe  it.  A  rich,  heavy, 
deadly  sort  of  thing,  likely,  I  should  think,  to  dull 
the  sharpest  senses. " 

"Did  Etwald  notice  it?"  asked  Jen,  thoughtfully. 

"Yes;  but  he  professes  his  inability  to  explain  it. 
He  thinks  the  man  was  stunned  and  not  drugged.  I 
think,  on  the  grounds  I  have  explained,  that  he  was 
first  drugged  and  then  stunned." 

"H'm;  it's  queer!  I'll  have  to  think  it  over.  But 
when  the  body  was  taken  out  of  the  window,  Arkel?" 

"The  thieves  carried  it  across  the  lawn!" 

"Then  down  through  the  bushes  to  that  winding 
lane,  I  suppose?"  said  Jen.  "I  know  all  that; 
but  afterward?" 

"They  put  it  into  a  cart  and  took  it  away." 

"How  do  you  know  that?"  asked  the  major,  all 
on  the  alert. 


THE  STRANGE  PERFUME.        119 

"Why,"  said  Arkel,  fingering  his  fat  chin,  "it 
was  raining,  as  you  may  remember  on  that  night." 

"Not  until  after  the  body  had  been  stolen," 
returned  Jen,  mindful  that  Isabella  had  come  into 
the  library  dryshod. 

"How  do  you  know  that?"  asked  the  inspector 
sharply. 

Jen  was  rather  taken  aback  by  the  quickness  of 
this  query,  and  saw  that  if  he  wished  to  preserve 
the  secret  of  Isabella,  upon  which  depended  her 
reputation,  it  behooved  him  to  be  careful. 

"Well,"  said  he  cautiously,  "I  looked  out  at  the 
night  when  the  hour  was  twelve,  and — " 

"It  might  have  rained  between  that  time  and 
three,"  said  Arkel,  with  swift  interruption;  "and  I 
believe  it  did  rain,  for  you  see,  major,  we  found 
the  mark  of  wheels  in  the  lane,  which  would  not 
have  been  left  had  not  a  considerable  amount  of  rain 
fallen." 

"Did  you  follow  the  trail?"  asked  the  major, 
waiving  the  question  of  rain  or  no  rain. 

Arkel  made  a  gestiire  of  disappointment. 

"To  the  high  road  only,"  said  he;  "and  there 
the  wheel  marks  became  mixed  up  with  those  of 
other  vehicles.  Lord  knows  where  they  took  the 
body  to,  for  once  on  the  high  road  they  had  the 
wide,  wide  world  to  choose  from.  It's  the  devil's 
own  mystery,"  he  said,  biting  his  finger.  "I  never 
met  the  like  of  it  before,  and  am  fairly  puzzled. 
Why  should  these  wretches  steal  the  mortal  reniains 
of  a  murdered  man?" 


120  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

"True,"  said  Jen;  "and  why  should  these 
wretches  have  murdered  that  man?" 

Arkel  looked  up  sharply. 

"As  to  that,"  he  said,  "we  are  by  no  means  cer- 
tain that  they  are  the  same." 

"I  don't  follow  you." 

"No?  And  yet  it  is  easy  enough.  If  those 
who  slew  Mr.  Alymer  wanted  his  body,  they  could 
have  stolen  it  on  the  high  road,  where  they  struck 
him  down.  It  was  mere  foolishness  to  venture 
liberty  and  life  in  a  raid  upon  the  house." 

"It  may  have  been  an  afterthought." 

"People  don't  have  afterthoughts  in  grim  matters 
of  this  kind,"  said  Arkel,  rising.  "Well,  major, 
good-by,  good-by.  Should  I  learn  anything  else 
I  shall  let  you  know ;  but  depend  upon  it,  the  truth 
of  the  matter  is  to  come  from  Jaggard." 

"Heis honest.  Honest!"  cried  Jen.  "I'llstakemy 
existence  upon  that. " 

When  riding  homeward  after  this  interesting 
conversation,  the  major  could  not  but  admit  to 
himself  that  Arkel  had  brightened  up  wonderfully 
in  his  intellects  since  first  taking  charge  of  the 
case.  The  man  was  not  brilliant,  not  even  clever ; 
yet  in  the  present  instance  he  displayed  more  read- 
iness of  resource  than  Jen  would  have  given  him 
credit  for.  The  theory  of  the  drugging  was  worthy 
of  investigation,  and  the  major  determined  to  see 
if  anything  could  be  discovered  likely  to  support 
this  view  of  the  matter.  He  still  held  to  his  belief 
in  Jaggard's  honesty,  for  it  was  incredible  that  an 


THE  STRANGE  PERFUME.  121 

old  servant  of  thirty  years'  standing  should  tiirn 
traitor  at  once;  but  he  thought  it  probable  that 
someone  might  have  taken  him  by  surprise  and 
drugged  him.  But  as  the  window  was  closed  the 
person  in  question  must  have  been  concealed  in  the 
room.  Here  Jen's  train  of  thought  became  con- 
fused. 

"I  don't  see  how  anybody  can  have  been  in  the 
room,"  he  reflected,  as  he  entered  his  house.  "I 
saw  that  all  was  safe  myself  at  midnight.  The 
servants  were  abed,  Sampson  keeping  vigil  in  the 
kitchen,  and  Jaggard  sentry  in  the  death-room. 
Moreover,  I  left  the  library  door  open,  and  the 
sound  of  footsteps  stealing  to  the  door  of  my  poor 
lad  would  have  wakened  me  out  of  the  deepest  sleep. 
Isabella's  raps  were  light  enough,  yet  I  was  up  on 
the  instant.  No,  I  can't  see  myself  that  the  devil 
who  drugged  the  man  could  have  been  in  the 
house ;  and  yet  the  window  opened  from  the  inside. 
H'm!  it  is  strange;  very  strange.  I  wish  Jaggard 
were  able  to  talk  sensibly. ' ' 

But  Jaggard  was  far  from  the  condition  of  con- 
nected thought  or  coherent  words.  He  turned  and 
tossed  upon  his  poor  bed  with  bright  eyes,  burning 
skin  and  babbling  tongue.  His  head  was  swathed 
in  bandages,  and  the  housemaid  who  watched 
beside  him  had  frequently  to  replace  the  clothes  he 
tossed  off  in  his  violent  movements.  This  nurse  was 
a  sickly,  dark-eyed  creature,  who  was  strongly 
attached  to  Jaggard ;  and  it  was  her  love  for  him 
that  made  her  proffer  her  services  to  look  after  him, 


122  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

and  that  chained  her  to  his  bedside.  She  reported 
to  her  master  that  Dr.  Etwald  had  been  in  that  morn- 
ing, and  was  coming  again  in  the  afternoon,  but 
that  there  was  nothing  to  be  done  until  the  delirium 
had  expended  itself. 

"Ay,"  thought  Jen,  as  he  stood  by  the  bed,  "or 
until  the  man  dies.  If  he  dies  without  regaining 
his  senses,  we  will  never  know  the  truth." 

He  bent  down  to  replace  the  bedclothes  which 
the  sick  man  had  thrown  off,  and  as  he  did  so,  a 
faint  perfume,  sickly  and  rich,  struck  his  nostrils. 
It  seemed  to  come  from  the  bandages  at  the  back  of 
the  head,  and  on  bending  down  for  a  closer  inspec- 
tion, Jen  saw  that  one  of  these — it  was  the  merest 
corner  which  peeped  out — was  of  finer  linen  than 
the  rest.  The  fabric  was  cambric,  and  with  a  start 
which  made  the  blood  turn  to  ice  in  his  veins,  Jen 
realized  that  it  was  a  woman's  handkerchief — it3 
delicacy  and  border-embroideries  assured  him  of 
this. 

"How  came  this  here?"  he  asked  the  housemaid, 
pointing  to  the  scrap  of  linen. 

"Oh,  that  was  on  the  first  night,  sir,"  she  hast- 
ened to  explain.  "It  was  put  on  his  head  when  in 
the  room  where  he  fell,  sir.  The  doctor,  sir,  says 
as  it  ain't  safe  to  take  it  away  yet." 

A  curtain  interposed  between  the  head  of  the 
patient  and  the  light  of  the  window.  This  Jen 
drew  aside,  and  lightly  removed  the  outside  wrap- 
pings of  the  wound.  The  housemaid  looked  on  in 
horror,  for  she  did  not  dare  to  prevent  her  ma'',ter 


THE  STRANGE  PERFUME.  123 

from  TT«^ddling,  yet  she  felt  sure  that  he  was  doing 
wrong.  But  Jen  was  bent  on  making  the  discovery 
as  to  whom  the  handkerchief  belonged;  and  in  a 
few  mi;;utes  he  had  the  outside  bandages  removed, 
and  savi  the  handkerchief  discolored  with  dry  blood 
lying  O'S'^r  the  wound.  With  deft  fingers  he  lightly 
touched  the  four  corners.  In  one  of  them  were  the 
initials  "M.  D. " 

"M.  O. !"  said  the  major  to  himself.  "Margaret 
Dallas,  the  mother  of  Isabella.  How  did  her 
handkerchief  come  into  the  room  on  that  night? 
And  the  perfume?" 

It  struck  his  sense  of  smell  with  the  belief  that 
he  had  smelt  it  before.  Nothing  is  so  strong  to 
awaken  •nemory  as  odor,  and  in  less  than  half  a 
minute  lie  mind  of  the  major  leaped  back  to  where 
he  had  r.melt  it  before.  It  was  the  perfume  of  the 
dried  poison  of  the  devil-stick. 


124  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 
ISABELLA. 

This  discovery  at  once  irritated,  amazed  and 
perplexed  the  major.  That  the  handkerchief  of 
Mrs.  Dallas  should  be  bound  around  the  head  of 
Jaggard  was  strange,  but  that  it  should  be  per- 
fumed with  the  deadly  scent  which  impregnated  the 
devil-stick  was  stranger  still.  Had  Mrs.  Dallas 
found  the  wand  of  sleep?  Had  Mrs.  Dallas  per- 
fumed the  handkerchief  with  its  cruel  poison  ?  Had 
Mrs.  Dallas  drugged  or  stupefied  Jaggard  on  that 
fatal  night  by  means  of  that  saturated  handker- 
chief? These  were  the  vital  questions  which  pre- 
sented themselves  to  the  puzzled  major,  and  which 
he  found  himself  unable  to  answer. 

And  here,  at  this  point,  the  personality  of  Dr. 
Etwald  intruded  itself  into  the  affair.  It  was 
Etwald  who  had  bound  up  the  wound  with  the 
handkerchief  in  question,  and  who,  according  to  the 
housemaid,  had  forbidden  its  removal.  The  ques- 
tion was,  had  he  received  it  from  Mrs.  Dallas,  or 
had  he  found  it  on  that  night  by  the  side  of  the 
insensible  man.  If  the  first,  Mrs.  Dallas  must  have 
perfumed  it  designedly  with  the  poison,  and  Etwald, 
knowing  that  it  was  so  impregnated,  must  have 
used  it  advisedly  as  a  bandage.      If   the    second, 


ISABELLA.  125 

Mrs.  Dallas  must  have  been  in  the  room  on  the 
night  in  question,  and  have  used  the  handker- 
chief to  render  Jaggard  insensible.  And  in  either 
case,  as  the  major  very  sensibly  concluded,  Mrs, 
Dallas  must  be  in  possession  of  the  devil-stick. 
Otherwise,  how  could  she  have  obtained  the  deadly 
scent? 

"And  the  plain  conclusion  of  the  whole  affair," 
soliloquized  Jen,  "is  that  Mrs.  Dallas  must  have 
stolen  the  devil-stick,  must  have  murdered  Maurice, 
and  must  have  drugged  Jaggard  for  the  purpose  of 
completing  her  devilish  work  by  stealing  my  poor 
boy's  body.     But  her  reason?" 

That  she  did  not  desire  Maurice  for  a  son-in-law 
was'  an  insufficient  motive  for  the  commission  of  a 
triple  crime.  She  had  declined  to  sanction  the 
engagement;  she  had  forbidden  Maurice  the  house; 
and,  assisted  upon  all  points  by  social  rules,  she 
had  ample  power  to  prevent  the  match,  which,  as 
she  averred,  was  distasteful  to  her.  Why,  then, 
with  this  power,  should  she  jeopardize  liberty  and  life 
by  thieving  the  devil-stick  and  killing  the  man?  In 
his  perplexity,  Jen  sought  out  David  and  asked  his 
opinion.  The  young  lawyer  gave  a  very  decided 
verdict  in  favor  of  Mrs.  Dallas. 

"I  don't  believe  Mrs.  Dallas  has  anything  to  do 
with  the  matter,"  he  said,  in  a  decisive  voice. 
"She  had  no  motive  to  commit  these  three  crimes, 
each  one  of  which  is  more  terrible  than  the  other.  Nor, 
major,  do  I  think  that  she  has  nerve  or  brain  enough 
to  design  or  accomplish  assassination  or  theft." 


126  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

"But  I  assure  you,  David,  the  handker>.nief  is 
hers." 

' '  Granted ;  but  you  forget  that  Isabella  was  in  the 
room  on  that  night.  She  might  have  dropped  the 
handkerchief." 

'"Well,"  said  Jen,  after  a  pause,  "that  is  not 
improbable.     But  the  perfume?" 

"Oh,"  replied  David,  with  a  shrug,  "we  know 
that  the  scent  is  an  Ashantee  preparation.  Dido's 
grandmother  came  from  Ashantee,  so  it  is  just  prob- 
able that  Dido  herself,  knowing  the  secret,  might 
have  j>repared  a  dose  of  the  poison. ' ' 

"Even  so.  Why  should  she  have  perfumed  the 
handkerchief?" 

"I  can't  say,  major.     You  had  better  ask  her." 

"Egad,  I  shall,"  cried  Jen,  starting  from  his  chair. 
"And  also  I'll  find  out  why  she  needed  to  prepare 
the  poison  at  all.  In  my  opinion,  David,  that  black 
Jezebel  is  at  the  bottom  of  the  whole  affair.  She 
thieved  the  devil-stick,  she  prepared  the  poison, 
murdered  Maurice,  and  stole  his  body." 

"You  accused  Mrs.  Dallas  of  all  these  things 
five  minutes  ago,"  said  David,  ironically,  "and  now 
you  think — ' ' 

"I  don't  know  what  to  think,"  cried  Jen,  in  des- 
peration. "Dido  or  Mrs.  Dallas,  I  don't  know 
which,  but  one  of  them,  must  be  guilty.  I'll  go  over 
to  The  Wigwam  at  once. ' ' 

"To  accuse  them  upon  insufficient  evidence?" 

"No.     I'll  see  Isabella,  and  hear  what  she  has  to 


ISABELLA.  127 

say.  She  loved  Maurice,  and  will  aid  me  to  avenge 
his  death." 

"That  is  improbable,  if  to  do  so  she  has  to  betray 
her  mother  or  her  nurse.  I  don' t  think  you'll  learn 
much  in  that  quarter,  major. ' ' 

"I'll  learn  what  lean,  at  all  events,"  retorted 
Jen ;  and  in  this  unsatisfactory  manner  the  conver- 
sation concluded.  David  retired  to  his  room,  and 
Jen  went  off  to  interview  Isabella  at  The  Wigwam. 

He  walked  meditatively  down  to  the  gates,  and 
here,  on  the  high-road,  his  thoughts  led  him  to  a 
sudden  conclusion  respecting  the  coming  conver- 
sation with  Miss  Dallas.  Without  much  considera- 
tion he  retraced  his  steps  rapidly,  and  sought  out 
David  in  his  room.  Then  and  there  he  asked  him  a 
question  which  was  of  vital  importance. 

"David,"  said  he  abruptly,  "owing  to  the  coming 
of  Etwald  and  Arkel  on  that  night — the  night  upon 
which  the  body  was  stolen,  I  mean — I  forgot  to  ask 
you  what  reception  Miss  Dallas  met  with  on  her 
return  home.     Who  received  her?" 

"Mrs.  Dallas.  She  had  missed  her  daughter  and 
had  been  seeking  for  her  in  a  statfe  of  terror,  surely 
natural  under  the  circumstances.  I  found  her  pac- 
ing the  veranda,  wondering  what  had  become  of 
Isabella." 

"Pacing  the  veranda?"  echoed  Jen,  thoughtfully. 
"Was  she  fully  dressed?" 

"Well,  yes,  so  far  as  my  memory  serves  me,  I 
think  she  was. '  * 

"And  Dido?" 


128  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

• '  1  saw  nothing  or  heard  nothing  of  Dido.  When 
I  found  Mrs.  Dallas,  I  simply  performed  my  mission, 
and  delivered  Isabella  into  her  hands.  The  poor  girl 
was  quite  distraught  with  the  horror  of  the  night, 
and  was  led  unresistingly  to  bed  by  her  mother." 

"Mrs.  Dallas  dressed!  Dido  missing!"  said  the 
major.  "Thank  you,  David,  you  have  told  me  all 
I  want  to  know,"  and  with  a  nod  Major  Jen  set  off 
for  the  second  time  to  The  Wigwam. 

The  major  was  rather  inclined  to  agree  with 
David  that  it  would  be  difficult  to  learn  anything  of 
material  value  from  Isabella.  On  the  night  she 
had  visited  the  house  at  three  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing her  brain  had  been  unsettled  for  the  time  being 
by  the  terrible  death  which  had  overtaken  her 
lover,  and  she  had  been  thrown  into  a  frenzy  by  the 
mysterious  theft  of  his  body.  The  question  which 
the  major  wished  answered  was,  whether  she  had 
been  sufficiently  herself  to  remember  the  events 
of  that  night,  and  especially  those  which  had  taken 
place  prior  to  her  escape  from  The  Wigwam.  But 
the  only  way  to  decide  this  doubt  was  to  see  the 
girl  personally,  and  Major  Jen  feared  lest  he  should 
find  Mrs.  Dallas  and  Dido  obstacles  to  his  accom- 
plishment of  this  object. 

However,  fortune  favored  him,  and  to  state  the 
truth,  fortune  rather  astonished  him;  for  upon 
arriving  within  the  grounds  of  Mrs.  Dallas,  the 
major  met  with  Isabella  herself.  In  a  light-colored 
dress,  with  sunshade  and  straw  hat,  she  was  stroll- 


ISABELLA.  129 

ing  down  the  walk  which  led  to  the  gate.  On 
coming  up  with  Jen,  he  was  surprised  to  see  that 
her  manner  was  calm  and  collected ;  in  all  respects 
diff^ent  from  that  displayed  during  the  frenzy  of 
the  midnight  visit.  He  could  hardly  believe  that 
she  was  the  same  girl. 

"I  am  glad  to  see  you,  ma.jor,"  said  she,  hold- 
ing out  her  hand.  "You  have  saved  me  the  trouble 
of  a  journey,  as  I  was  on  my  way  to  your  house. ' ' 

"To  see  me.  Miss  Dallas?" 

"Yes,  to  see  you,"  she  replied,  with  a  serious 
face.  "In  order  to  talk  with  you  about  my  last  visit 
— on  that  terrible  night." 

"My  dear  young  lady,"  he  remonstrated,  "why 
distress  yourself  with  recollections  of  these  things?" 

"Because  it  is  necessary  that  I  should  do  so, 
major.  It  is  my  intention  to  aid  you  in  your  search 
for  the  assassin  of  Maurice.  Oh,  yes,  you  may  look 
doubtful  as  to  my  ability  to  help  you,  but  I  can 
and  will.  I  am  not  the  mad  woman  who  burst  into 
your  library  at  three  in  the  morning.  I  am  cool 
and  calm  and  bent  upon  revenge.  Maurice  is  dead. 
I  loved  him.  And  I  intend  to  devote  myself  to 
avenging  his  death.  Come,  major,  sit  upon  this 
seat  beside  me,  and  relate  all  you  have  heard,  all 
you  have  discovered.  With  my  woman 's  wit  I  may 
be  able  to  help  you  in  the  way  the  mouse  aided  the 
lion.     Begin ! " 

Jen  was  astonished,  both  at  her  peremptory  tone 
and  her  quiet  manner.  Whatever  influence  had 
9 


I30  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

been  at  work,  it  was  certainly  wonderful  how  she 
had  calmed  down  from  the  nervous,  hysterical  girl 
into  the  reasonable  and  cool-headed  woman.  Isa- 
bella noted  the  amazement  of  the  major,  and  guess- 
ing its  cause,  she  explained  the  reason  of  the  change 
in  her  looks,  manner  and  nervous  system. 

"Dr.   Etwald  cured  me,  major,"  she  said  quietly. 

"He  has  preserved  my  sanity,  and  I  owe  him  a 
debt  of  gratitude. ' ' 

"You  certainly  do,"  said  Jen,  dryly.  "Will  you 
repay  it  by  marrying  him?" 

"No.  I  shall  marry  no  one;  not  even  Mr.  Sarby, 
much  as  my  mother  wishes  me  to  do  so.  I  live  only 
to  avenge  the  death  of  Maurice,  to  recover  his  body 
from  those  who  have  stolen  it.  Come,  major,  tell 
me  what  you  know. " 

Thus  adjured,  and  feeling  that  he  could  not  do 
without  her  assistance,  Jen  related  all  that  he  had 
heard  from  Arkel,  and  also  his  own  personal  experi- 
ence with  regard  to  the  finding  of  the  handkerchief 
marked  "M.  D.  "  Isabella  heard  him  to  the  end  in 
silence,  her  large  and  shining  eyes  fixed  upon  his 
face. 

When  he  paused,  she  pondered  and  finally  spoke 
out. 

"It  would  seem  that  you  suspect  Dido  or  my 
mother  of  having  something  to  do  with  the  matter," 
she  remarked  coldly. 

Major  Jen  equivocated. 

"No,"  he  replied.     "I  don't  say  that  exactly,  but 


ISABELLA.  131 

you  must   admit  that  the  finding  of  the  handker- 
chief bound  round  Jaggard's  head  is  strange." 

"Not  at  all.     Dr.  Etwald  used  it  as  a  bandage." 

"So  I  understand;  but  did  Dr.  Etwald  bring  it  to 
the  house  with  him?" 

"No.     He  picked  it  up  in  the  bedroom," 

"Precisely,"  assented  Jen,  eagerly.  "Therefore 
your  mother — " 

"  Had  nothing  to  do  with  it,"  interrupted  Isabella. 
"I  dropped  the  handkerchief  in  the  room.  Is 
there  anything  so  very  extraordinary  in  that?"  ^e 
added,  impatiently.  "The  matter  is  very  simple. 
I  brought  with  me  one  of  my  mother's  handkerchiefs 
instead  of  my  own.  In  the  agitation  of  finding  the 
body  gone  I  dropped  it,  and  Dr.  Etwald  found  it 
to  use  as  a  bandage.     That  is  quite  plain,  I  think. ' ' 

"Quite  plain,"  agreed  the  major,  "saving  the 
presence  of  the  perfume  similar  to  that  of  the  devil- 
stick.  " 

"I  don't  know  anything  about  the  devil-stick.  I 
never  saw  it ;  but  with  regard  to  the  perfume  I  can 
explain.  I  was  ill  on  that  night,  as  you  know,  and 
Dido  applied  some  of  her  negro  remedies;  among 
them  the  perfume  with  which  that  handkerchief  of 
my  mother's  was  saturated.  It  was  bound  across 
my  forehead  to  soothe  the  nerves.  During  my 
journey  to  your  house  I  snatched  it  off,  and — " 

"I  can  understand  all  that,"  interrupted  Jen, 
"but  the  similarity  of  the  perfumes?  I  must  have 
that  point  cleared  up. ' ' 


132  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

"I  daresay  it  can  be,"  said  Isabella,  quietly. 
"Come  up  to  the  house,  major,  and  speak  to  Dido. 
I  feel  sure  she  can  explain. ' ' 

*'Very  good,"  said  Jen,  as  they  turned  their  steps 
toward  the  house.  "If  her  explanation  is  only  as 
clear  as  your  own,  I  shall  have  nothing  to  say.  By 
the  way,  Miss  Dallas,  how  did  you  escape  from 
your  room  that  night?" 

"So  far  as  I  can  remember,  I  left  by  my  bed- 
room window.  I  had  only  to  step  out  through  it 
like  a  door,  as  it  is  a  French  window  and  opens  onto 
the  lawn." 

"H'm!"  said  Jen.  "But  seeing  that  you  were  so 
ill,  was  no  one  watching  beside  you?" 

"Yes,  my  mother  was.  So  you  see,  major,  she 
could  not  have  dropped  the  handkerchief  in  the  bed- 
room of  poor  dear  Maurice. ' ' 

"No;  I  understand.  You  have  explained  the 
affair  of  the  handkerchief  clearly.  All  the  points 
have  been  elucidated  save  that  dealing  with  the 
perfume.  * ' 

"You  will  now  be  satisfied  on  that  point,"  said 
Miss  Dallas,  rather  dryly,  "for  here  is  Dido.  She 
prepared  the  drug  and  perfumed  the  handkerchief, 
and  for  all  I  know,"  added  the  girl,  ironically,  "she 
may  have  taken  the  hint  from  your  wand  of  sleep. ' ' 


LADY  MEG.  133 


CHAPTER  XIV. 
LADY   MEG. 

"One  moment!"  said  Jen,  as  they  approached 
the  veranda,  whereon  Dido  was  waiting  them. 
"How  do  you  know  Etwald  picked  up  the  hand- 
kerchief in  the  room?" 

"Because  I  overheard  his  apology  to  my  mother 
for  having  put  her  handkerchief  to  such  use," 
replied  Isabella,  with  suspicious  promptitude. 

"Humph !  Didn't  the  doctor  think  it  strange  that 
he  should  find  it  there?" 

"I  don'"t  know,  major.     He  made  no  remark." 

"Rather  peculiar,  don't  you  think,  seeing  that  he 
must  necessarily  have  been  ignorant  of  your  visit 
on  that  night?" 

The  color  of  Isabella  rose  in  her  cheeks. 

"He  was  not  ignorant  of  that!"  she  said  in  a  low 
voice.  ' '  To  account  for  the  fever  which  seized  me, 
my  mother  explained  all  that  took  place  to  Dr. 
Etwald.  He  quite  understood  that  I  had  dropped 
the  handkerchief, ' ' 

' '  Did  he  apologize  for  his  use  of  it  before  or  after 
the  explanation?"  was  Jen's  final  question. 

"After!"  replied  Isabella,  with  some  hesitation; 
then  abruptly  left  the  major's  side  to  exchange  a 


134  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

few  words  with  Dido.  Jen,  as  was  natural,  looked 
after  her  with  a  glance  full  of  doubt  and  suspicion. 
Notwithstanding  her  love  for  Maurice  and  her 
expressed  desire  to  avenge  his  death  by  hunting 
down  the  assassin,  she  appeared  to  be  anything  but 
frank  in  the  matter.  In  plain  words,  her  conduct 
suggested  to  Jen's  mind  an  idea  that  she  knew  more 
than  she  cared  to  talk  about;  and  that  such  half- 
hinted  knowledge  implicated  her  mother.  In 
which  case — but  here  Dido  interrupted  Jen's  medita- 
tions. 

"My  missy  tell  me  you  wish  to  hear  my  Obi,"  she 
said,  abruptly,  fixing  her  eyes  on  the  face  of  the 
visitor.     "Why  you  wish?     You  laugh  at  Obi." 

"I  don't  particularly  wish  to  learn  your  Voodoo 
secrets,"  answered  Jen  carelessly.  "All  I  desire  to 
know  is  why  you  manufactured  that  scent  with  which 
you  saturated  a  certain  handkerchief  of  your  mis- 
tress. ' ' 

"Mother's  handkerchief,  Dido,"  explained  Isa- 
bella, interrupting.  "The  one  you  bound  round  my 
head." 

"Oh.  dat  a  Voodoo  smell  to  drib  away  de  evil 
spirit, "  said  Dido,  solemnly  addressing  herself  more 
particularly  to  the  major.  "My  witch-mudder,  she 
learn  to  make  dat  in  her  own  land — " 

"In  Ashantee?" 

' '  Ho !  yis.  It  berry  strong,  dat  smell.  Too  much 
of  it  kill— kill— kill!" 

"By  means  of  its  odor?" 


LADY  MEG.  135 

"No,  dat  onl)''  drib  away  bad  debbils.  But  you 
scratch  de  skin  with  one  leetle  bit  of  it,  and  you 
die,  die,  die!" 

"And  the  scratch  is  made  by  means  of  the  wand 
of  sleep?" 

"Yis.  Dat  so,"  said  Dido,  with  pretended  sur- 
prise, turning  on  him  sharply.  "But  you  no  b'lieve 
in  Obi,  massa.  What  you  know  of  de  wand  of 
sleep — de  debble-stick?" 

"Because  I  had  one.  Dido." 

The  negress  laughed  with  scornful  doubt. 

"Ho,  dat  one  big  lie.  Der  ain't  de  debble-stick 
but  in  de  king's  palace  at  Kumassi. " 

"You  are  wrong.  I  had  one,  and  it  was  stolen  by — '  * 

"Why,  of  course,"  interrupted  Isabella  again. 
"Don't  you  remember.  Dido,  you  were  asked  if 
you  had  taken  it?" 

"Ho,  yis.  Now  I  do  tink,"  said  Dido.  "Ah, 
massa,  you  say  I  took  de  debble-stick  and  made  de 
new  smell  to  fill  him.  Den  dat  I  kill  wid  him 
massa,  who  lubbed  lil  missy,  and  dat  I  made  spells 
in  your  house  to  steal  de  body.     Heh,  dat  not  so?" 

"It  certainly  is  so,"  assented  Jen,  astonished  to 
hear  her  put  his  suspicions  into  such  plain  words. 
"Mr.  Alymer  was  killed  by  means  of  this  poison.  It 
was  used  again  to  render  my  servant  insensible 
while  the  body  was  stolen.     So  I  thought — ' ' 

"I  know,  I  know!"  broke  in  Dido,  impatiently. 
"But  dat  not  to  do  wid  me.  De  poison  in  your 
debble-stick." 


136  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

"There  was;  but  it  was  all  dried  up." 

"No!  Dat  nossin.  If  you  pour  wather  in  dat 
stick  de  poison  come  alive.  Well,  dat  stick  taken, 
but  I  no  take  it.  Dat  poo'  young  massa  killed  wid 
it — I  no  kill  him.  But  de  udder  ting,  sah.  Dat 
smell!     I  mek  it  for  missy,  dat  ^11!" 

And  having  made  this  explanation,  Dido  folded 
her  arms,  and  waited  in  scornful  silence  to  hear 
what  her  accuser  had  to  say.  He  considered  the 
absolute  absurdity  of  her  story,  which,  on  the  face 
of  it,  was  a  manifest  invention,  and  one  which,  it 
would  seem,  was  supported  by  the  testimony  of 
Isabella. 

"You  are  satisfied  now,  I  think,"  said  this  latter, 
seeing  that  the  major  did  not  speak. 

"Well,  yes.  Miss  Dallas,"  returned  he,  with 
much  deliberation.  "I  am'  satisfied,  for  the  time 
being. ' ' 

"Does  Dido's explanatton  give  you  any  clew?"  she 
asked  quickly. 

Major  Jen  considered  again,  and  looked  her 
straightly  in  the  eyes. 

' '  Yes, ' '  he  replied,  with  point  and  some  dryness. 
"It^gives  me  a  clew  in  a  direction  for  which  I  should 
not  have  looked  for  it.  Thank  you,  Miss  Dallas, 
and  you,  Dido.     I  shall  now  say  good- day." 

"When  will  you  return?" 

"When  I  have  followed  to  its  end  the  clew  of 
which  we  have  been  speaking,"  replied  Jen,  and 
taking  off  his  hat  he  walked  swiftly  away  from  the 


LADY  MEG.  13  7 

house.  Swiftly,  as  he  was  afraid  lest  Isabella  would 
ask  him  indoors,  and  for  certain  reasons  not  uncon- 
nected with  the  late  conversation,  he  did  not  wish 
to  face  Mrs.  Dallas  at  the  present  moment.  There 
were  large  issues  at  stake. 

When  he  vanished  round  the  curve  of  the  drive, 
Isabella,  with  a  very  pale  face,  turned  toward  Dido. 

"I  have  told  all  the  lies  you  wished  me  to  tell," 
she  said,  hurriedly.  "I  have  hidden  from  the  sharp 
eyes  of  Major  Jen  those  things  which  you  wished 
hidden,  and  all  at  the  cost  of  niy  honor  and  hon- 
esty." 

"Der  noting  wrong,  missy,"  said  Dido,  eagerly. 
"I  swear — " 

'  "Don't,"  cried  Isabella,  with  a  shudder.  "You 
have  done  enough  evil.  Do  not  add  perjury  to  your 
other  sins." 

She  ran  hastily  into  the  house,  as  though  to  escape 
further  conversation  on  a  distasteful  subject,  while 
Dido,  with  her  eyes  on  the  ground,  remained  in 
deep  thought.  The  old  negress  knew  that  she 
was  placed  in  a  perilous  position,  which  might  be 
rendered  even  more  so  should  Isabella  speak  freely. 
But  of  this  she  had  little  fear,  as  by  her  conversa- 
tion with  Major  Jen  the  girl  had  gone  forward  on  a 
path  of  concealment  whence  there  was  now  no 
retreat.  Yet  Dido  was  not  satisfied.  She  did  not 
trust  those  around  her,  and  she  was  uneasy  as  to 
what  might  be  the  result  of  Jen's  pertinacity  in 
investigating  both  the  death  of  Maurice  and    the 


138  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

disappearance  of  the  body.  Thus  perplexed  it 
occurred  to  her  to  seek  out  and  consult  with  Dr. 
Etwald. 

"I  shall  tell  the  master  all!"  she  muttered  in  her 
own  barbaric  dialect,  "and  he  will  tell  me  what  to 
do.  The  spirit  in  the  Voodoo  stone  will  tell  him. ' ' 
Having  come  to  this  resolution  she  went  into  the 
house  to  ask,  or  rather  to  demand,  permission  to 
visit  Deanminster.  That  she  was  about  to  call 
upon  Etwald,  the  negress  did  not  think  it  necessary 
to  tell  Mrs.  Dallas.  There  were  matters  between 
her  and  the  doctor  of  which  Mrs.  Dallas  knew 
nothing,  which  she  would  not  have  understood  if  she 
had  known.  When  she  inquired,  Dido  merely 
hinted  that  such  secrets  had  to  do  with  Obi,  when 
the  superstitious  nature  of  Mrs.  Dallas  immediately 
shrank  from  pursuing  an  inquiry  into  what  were, 
even  to  this  civilized  so-called  Christian  woman, 
secret  mysteries. 

But  while  Dido  goes  on  her  dark  path  and  takes 
her  way  toward  Etwald  in  his  gloomy  house  at 
Deanminster,  it  is  necessary  to  return  to  the  doings 
of  Major  Jen.  On  leaving  The  Wigwam  he 
returned  forthwith  to  his  own  house  with  the  inten- 
tion of  repeating  to  David  the  conversation  which 
had  taken  place  between  himself.  Dido  and  Isabella. 
On  his  arrival,  however,  he  learned  that  David  had 
gone  out  for  a  walk,  and  that  Lady  Meg  Brance 
was  waiting  for  him  in  the  library.  At  once  the  ever- 
courteous  major  hastened  to  apologize  to  his  visitor. 


LADY  MEG.  139 

"My  dear  Lady  Meg,  I  am  so  sorry  to  have  been 
absent  when  you  called.  I  hope  you  have  not  been 
waiting  long!" 

"Only half  an  hour,"  replied  Lady  Meg,  in  a  low, 
grave  voice.  ' '  I  should  have  waited  in  any  case  until 
your  return,  as  I  have  something  important  to  say 
to  you." 

The  major  looked  inquiringly  at  his  visitor.  She 
was  a  tall  and  stately  woman,  with  a  fair  com- 
plexion, steady  blue  eyes  and  hair  of  a  deep  red 
shade.  Although  close  on  twenty-five  years  of 
age,  she  was  still  a  spinster,  as  much  to  the  annoy- 
ance of  her  mother — a  match-making  matron — she 
had  hitherto  declined  the  most  eligible  offers  for 
her  hand.  Her  reasons  for  such  refusals  she  would 
not  state,  but  Jen,  from  certain  observations,  had 
long  since  guessed  the  truth.  Lady  Meg  was 
deeply  in  love  with  Maurice  Alymer,  and  it  was  for 
his  sake  that  she  remained  single.  Whether  she 
knew  that  the  young  man  loved  Isabella  Dallas  it  is 
impossible  to  say;  but  at  all  events  she  showed  him 
very  plainly  the  drift  of  her  desires.  The  very 
indifference  of  Alymer  had  rendered  her  passion 
more  violent  and  persistent.  What  would  have 
been  the  conclusion  of  this  one-sided  love  it  is  diffi- 
cult to  conjecture;  but  the  death  of  Maurice  had 
brought  this  and  all  other  things  to  an  abrupt  con- 
clusion. 

Lady  Meg  was  dressed  in  black  out  of  regard  for 
the  dead  man,  and  she  looked  worn,  red-eyed  and 


I40  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

very  dejected.  But  in  coming  forward  to  greet  the 
major,  her  fine  blue  eyes  lighted  up  with  the  fire 
of  hope,  and  it  was  with  something  of-  her  old 
impetuosity — quenched  since  the  death  of  Maurice 
— that  she  gave  him  her  hand  and  repeated  her  last 
remark. 

"I  have  something  to  say  to  you,"  she  said, 
quickly.  "Something  likely  to  help  you  in  your 
investigations." 

"Concerning  the  theft  of  the  body?"  asked  Jen, 
eagerly. 

' '  No,  with  regard  to  the  murder. " 

"What  is  it?" 

"I  will  inform  you  in  a  few  minutes,"  replied 
Lady  Meg.  "But  first  tell  me  if  you  have  found 
out  anything  likely  to  reveal  the  truth. " 

"No."  Jen  shook  his  head  mournfully.  "I  am 
completely  in  the  dark,  and  so  is  Inspector  Arkel. 
The  whole  case  is  a  profoimd  mystery." 

"Well,  mysteries,  even  the  most  profound,  have 
been  cleared  up  before  now,  major.  Come,  tell 
me  precisely  how  the  matter  stands,  and  I  may  be 
able  to  help  you," 

"You  know  something?" 

"Yes,  I  do;  and  it  is  to  tell  that  something  that  I 
have  driven  over  to-day.  Well,  now,  major,  let 
me  know  all  about  the  matter  from  the  beginning. 
I  have  heard  nothing  but  the  most  garbled  accounts, 
and  it  is  necessary,  for  the  sake  of  the  information 


LADY  MEG.  141 

which  I  am  about  to  impart,  that  I  should  know  the 
exact  truth." 

"I  shall  tell  it  to  you,"  replied  Jen,  with  some 
hesitation;  "but  I  am  afraid  I  shall  give  you 
pain. ' ' 

"I  guess  what  you  mean — Miss  Dallas." 

Jen  bent  his  head  gravely. 

"Maurice  wanted  to  marr)'-  her." 

"I  know,  I  know,"  replied  Lady  Meg,  while  a 
wave  of  color  passed  over  her  fair  face. 

' '  You  do ! "  cried  Jen,  in  surprise,  ' '  And  who  told 
you?" 

"Mr.  Sarby." 

"Oh!"  The  major  considered  a  moment,  and  his 
thoughts  were  anything  but  benevolent  toward 
David.     "I  can  guess  why  he  told  you.  " 

"What  do  you  mean,  major?" 

"Never  mind  at  present,"  said  Jen,  evasively. 
"I'll  tell  you  that  later  on.  In  the  meantime,  let 
me  state  the  case.  Maurice  was  killed  on  the  high 
road  by  means,  as  I  verily  believe,  of  the  devil-stick. 
You  know  about  that,  of  course." 

"Yes,  I  read  the  report  of  the  inquest,  and  I  have 
heard  rumors.  I  agree  with  you,  major,  that  Mr. 
Alymer  was  killed  by  the  poison  of  the  devil-stick. 
Go  on. ' ' 

"On  the  night  that  the  body  was  stolen,"  con- 
tinued Jen,  deliberately,  "Jaggard  was  drugged. " 

"By  whom?" 

"I  can't  say.     If  I  knew  that  I'd  know  who  stole 


142  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

the  body.  But  he  was  drugged  by  means  of  a  per- 
fume which  is  the  same  as  that  impregnating  the 
devil-stick, " 

"How  do  you  know?" 

Jen  was  about  to  explain  when  he  remembered 
the  necessity  of  keeping  silent  concerning  the  visit 
of  Isabella  to  the  house. 

"I  can't  tell  you  that  just  now,"  he  said,  in  a 
hesitating  manner.     "But  I  know  it  for  certain." 

"Well,"  said  Lady  Meg,  "it  would  seem  that  the 
devil-stick  is  the  center  of  this  mystery." 

"I  fancy  it  is." 

"If  you  found  the  devil -stick  you  would  know  the 
truth?" 

"I  don't  go  so  far  as  that,"  protested  Jen.  "If 
we  found  the  person  who  stole  the  devil-stick  from 
my  smoking-room  I  might  guess  the  truth.  " 

"In  that  case,  major,  look  at  this,"  said  Lady 
Meg,  and  produced  an  article  from  her  pocket,  an 
article  which  she  held  up  triumphantly  before  the 
astonished  eyes  of  the  old  man. 

"The  devil-stick ! "  he  cried.  ' ' By  all  that  is  won- 
derful, the  devil-stick!" 

"Yes,  the  devil-stick.  I  got  it  from  the  assassin 
of  Mr.  Alymer!" 

"The  assassin — you  know  the  assassin?  Who  is 
he  or  she?" 

"It  is'  not  a  woman,  but  a  man.     Battersea!" 


CROSS-EXAMINATION.  143 

CHAPTER  XV. 

CROSS-EXAMINATION. 

Major  Jen  sprang  to  his  feet  with  a  loud  cry. 
This  information  that  Battersea  was  the  criminal 
took  him  so  utterly  by  surprise  that  for  the  moment 
he  was  tongue-tied.  Then,  when  he  recalled  the 
feeble  and  emaciated  form  of  the  old  tramp,  when 
he  recollected  his  weak  intelligence,  he  altogether 
declined  to  believe  that  such  a  creature,  one  so  want- 
ing in  activity,  could  have  conceived  and  executed 
a  triple  crime — the  theft  of  the  devil-stick,  the  mur- 
der of  Maurice,  the  stealing  of  the  body.  Battersea 
had  not  sufficient  craft  or  strength  to  do  such  things. 
With  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders  the  major  resumed 
his  seat. 

"You  must  be  mistaken,  Lady  Meg,"  he  said  in  a 
quiet  voice.  "Whosoever  may  be  gnilty,  Battersea, 
for  physical  and  mental  reasons,  must  be  innocent." 

"That  you  must  prove,"  replied  Lady  Meg,  dryly. 

"And  in  accusing  Battersea  I  go  only  on  your 
own  premises.  You  said  that  the  man  who  stole  the 
devil-stick,  who  had  it  in  his  possession,  must  be 
the  guilty  person.  You  see  the  devil-stick  there." 
She  pointed  to  the  table.  "Well,  I  obtained  that 
from  Battersea." 

"How  did  you  obtain  it?" 


144  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

"Knowing  that  I  collected  curiosities,  he  came  to 
sell  it  to  me. ' ' 

*'A  proof  of  his  innocence,"  cried  Jen,  promptly. 

**If  the  man  had  been  guilty,  he  certainly  would 
not  offer  the  evidence  of  his  guilt  for  sale.  Where 
did  he  obtain  this  devil-stick?" 

"Out  of  your  smoking-room,  I  presume,"  said 
Lady  Meg,  "But  I  have  not  questioned  him,  as  I 
thought  it  best  that  you  should  examine  him  your- 
self." 

"Certainly,  when  I  can  find  him.  Where  is  he 
now?" 

"Round  at  your  stables  with  my  groom.  I 
brought  him  over  with  me. ' ' 

"Thank  you,  Lady  Meg,"  said  Jen,  cordially.  "I 
congratulate  you  on  your  presence  of  mind,  and  on 
your  courage." 

"There  is  no  necessity  to  congratulate  me  at  all," 
replied  the  other,  coloring.  "I  knew  that  it  would 
not  be  wise  to  let  him  out  of  sight  after  I  saw  the 
devil-stick  in  his  possession.  And  as  to  my  cour- 
age," she  added  carelessly,  "the  poor  old  creature 
is  so  feeble  that  even  I,  a  woman,  could  overpower 
him.  But  ring  the  bell,  major,  and  have  him  in.  I 
may  be  wrong.  He  may  be  innocent,  but  if  you 
force  him  to  confess  how  he  obtained  possession  of 
the  devil-stick  you  may  get  at  the  truth,  and  per- 
haps at  the  name  of  the  murderer." 

"It  won't  be  the  name  of  Battersea,"  said  Jen, 
touching  the  button  of  the  bell.     "He  had  no  motive 


CROSS-EXAMINATION.  145 

to  steal  my  devil-stick  or  to  kill  Maurice,  nor  could 
he  have  any  reason  to  take  possession  of  a  dead 
body.  Besides, "  added  Jen,  returning  to  his  seat, 
"if  this  tramp  were  guilty,  he  would  scarcely  put  his 
neck  in  danger  by  offering  you  the  devil-stick  for 
sale." 

At  this  moment  the  footman  appeared  in  answer 
to  the  bell,  and  in  obedience  to  his  master's  per- 
emptory order  left  the  room  again  for  the  purpose 
of  bringing  in  old  Battersea  for  examination. 
While  waiting,  neither  Lady  Meg  nor  the  major 
spoke,  as  they  both  considered,  and  truly,  that  noth- 
ing further  could  be  said  until  the  truth  was  forced 
from  the  tramp.  Then  the  present  aspect  of  the 
case  might  change,  and  an  important  step  might  be 
taken  toward  the  solution  of  the  mystery. 

As  dirty  and  disreputable  as  ever,  Battersea, 
rolling  his  cap  in  his  dirty  hands,  made  his  appear- 
ance on  the  threshold  of  the  library,  conducted  by 
the  disgusted  footman.  When  the  door  was  closed 
behind  him,  and  he  stood  aftme  before  those  who  were 
about  to  examine  him,  he  shifted  uneasily  from  one 
foot  to  the  other,  blinked  his  bleared  eyes,  and 
blushed  as  with  the  shame  of  guilt  through  the  sal- 
low darkness  of  his  skin.  Jen,  with  the  military 
instinct  of  command  fully  awakened  within  him, 
looked  sternly  at  the  feeble  old  creature,  and  ques- 
tioned him  sharply,  as  though  he  were  talking  to  a 
soldier  who  had  done  wrong.  On  her  part.  Lady 
Meg  left  the  most  part  of  the  examination  to  the 
10 


146  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

major;  but  she  listened  with  anxious  looks  and 
parted  lips  to  every  word  which  fell  from  the 
tramp's  lips.  The  death  of  the  man  whom  she  had 
loved  so  deeply  had  inflicted  terrible  anguish  upon 
her  loving  heart,  and,  as  a  tribute  to  his  memory, 
she  was  anxious  to  punish  his  assassin.  But  at 
present,  influenced  by  the  views  of  the  major,  she 
began  to  waver  in  her  opinion  regarding  the  guilt 
of  the  weak-brained  creature  who  stood  trembling 
nervously  at  the  doorway. 

"What  is  your  name,  man?"  demanded  Jen, 
commencing  in  the  orthodox  manner. 

"Battersea,  sir." 

"What  else?" 

"Nothin'  else,"  retorted  the  tramp  sullenly. 
"My  father  was  black,  an'  my  mother  she  was 
white;  an' they  weren't  married.  I  was  brought  up 
in  Battersea  parish,  so  I  took  that  name,  I  did,  not 
havin'  any  right  to  another  name." 

"How  do  you  get  your  living?" 

"I  begs!"  said  Battei^ea,  candidly.  "And  when 
I  can't  get  nuffin  I  steals." 

"I  am  sure  of  that,"  remarked  Jen,  taking  the 
devil-stick  off  the  table.  "And  you  stole  this,  I'll 
be  bound. ' ' 

"I  didn't.     I  found  it." 

"Oh!"  said  the  major,  in  a  satirical  tone.  "You 
found  it?     Where?" 

"At  Missus  Dallas'  place." 

Jen  started,  and  looked  sharply  at  the  old  man, 


CROSS-EXAMINATION.  I47 

who,  to  all  appearances,  was  answering  his  ques- 
tions with  all  possible  candor. 

" Be  more  explicit,  man,"  he  said  sternly.  "What 
do  you  mean  by  Mrs.  Dallas'  place?  The  house 
or  the  grounds?" 

"The  g^oun's,  near  the  gate." 

"When  did  you  find  it?" 

"The  day  arter  th'  young  gen' man  was  killed." 

"And  why  didn't  you  give  it  up  to  the  police?" 

Battersea  scowled. 

"I  wanted  money  for  it,  I  did,"  he  said  huskily, 
"an'  they  wouldn't  give  no  tin  to  me  fur  findin'  it. 
She,"  pointing  to  Lady  Meg,  "is  fond  of  pretty 
things,  so  I  guv  it  her  for  five  shillin' ;  but  she 
didn't  pay  me  for  it. " 

"No,"  said  Lady  Meg,  speaking  for  the  first  time, 
"because  I  did  not  know  if  you  had  come  by  it 
honestly. ' ' 

"I  tell  'ee  I  found  it,  I  did,"  growled  Battersea, 
becoming  restive  under  the  constant  questioning. 
"Found  it  near  the  gate  of  Missus  Dallas'  place." 

"Inside  the  gate,"  asked  Jen,  "or  outside,  on  the 
road?" 

"Inside;  jus'  among  the  grass.  I  was  comin'  up 
to  get  some  food  from  missy,  and  I  sowr  that 
'andle  shinin'  in  the  sun.  I  goes  an'  I  looks,  an'  I 
fin's  it.  I  knowed  as  the  perlice  wanted  it,  'cause  I 
'eard  talk  of  it  doin'  murder;  but  as  perlice  wouldn't 
give. me  tin,  I  wouldn't  guv  it  to  they,"  added 
Battersea,  cunningly,  "so  I  keeps  it  for  'er,  but  she 


148  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

ain't  paid  me  yit,"  he  concluded,  with  the  whine  of 
a  mendicant. 

For  the  moment  Major  Jen  did  not  ask  any  more 
questions,  for  the  very  simple  reason  that  he  did  not 
exactly  know  what  course  to  take.  Undoubtedly 
the  tramp  was  telling  the  truth.  He  had  no  reason 
to  conceal  it ;  for  in  his  own  mind  Jen  quite  aquitted 
him  of  any  complicity  in  the  crime.  That  so  feeble 
and  elderly  a  creature,  debauched  by  intemperance, 
weak  from  insufficient  food,  should  attack  a  vigorous 
young  athlete  like  Maurice,  was  out  of  the  ques- 
tion, even  though  he  had  the  advantage  of  possess- 
ing the  devil-stick.  But  here  the  question  of  the 
dried-up  poison  occurred  to  Jen.  If  the  poison  had 
evaporated  by  the  lapse  of  time,  the  devil-stick  must 
have  been  innocuous  and  incapable  of  inflicting 
death.  Therefore,  upon  the  evidence  of  the  satur- 
ated handkerchief,  the  bag  concealed  in  the  tur- 
quoise-studded handle  must  have  been  refilled  by 
Dido! — Dido,  for  the  significant  reason  that  she, 
inheriting  the  traditions  of  her  Ashantee  grand- 
mother, alone  must  have  been  capable  of  manufac- 
turing the  deadly  drug.  To  prove  this  assumption, 
a  feasible  one,  the  devil-stick  was  close  at  hand. 

Jen  picked  it  up  and  slightly  pressed  the  handle. 
At  once  the  turquoise  gems  indented  the  concealed 
bag ;  at  once  the  iron  fang  protruded  from  the  end 
of  the  stick,  and  on  looking  closely  the  major  at  the 
end  of  the  spike  observed  an  oblong  drop  of  green- 
ish hue. 


CROSS-EXAMINATION.  i49 

The  evidence  of  his  own  eyes  was  enough,  and 
Jen  replaced  the  devil-stick  upon  the  table,  with  the 
full  conviction  that  the  bag  had  been  filled  with  a 
fresh  preparation  of  its  original  venom.  This  dis- 
covery, to  the  major's  mind,  confirmed  the  guilt  of 
the  negress. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  asked  Lady  Meg,  as  she 
saw  the  major's  face  grow  dark  with  his  thought. 
"Is  anything  wrong?" 

"Yes,  Dido  is  wrong,"  he  said.  "I  always 
thought  that  black  witch  was  at  the  bottom  of 
everything.     I  am  sure  of  it  now." 

"Dido!"  repeated  Lady  Meg,  thoughtfully.  "I 
have  heard  Mr.  Alymer  and  Mr.  Sarby  talking 
about  her.     A  negress,  is  she  not?" 

"Yes,  and  a  murderess!" 

"Major!     Do  you  think — " 

"Certainly  I  do.  I  believe  she  killed  Maurice; 
but  the  evidence  is  as  yet  too  slight  upon  which  to 
accuse  her.  If  I  thought  that  she — "  here  the  major 
checked  himself  and  resumed  in  an  altered  tone — 
"but  I  must  think  of  these  things  later  on.  In  the 
meantime  I  must  conclude  my  examination  of  this 
man."  , 

"Do  you  think  he  knows  anything?" 

"No.  I  believe  he  found  the  devil-stick  as  he 
says.  Within  the  grounds  of  Mrs.  Dallas,  mind 
you!" 

"Well,  and  what  does  that  prove?" 

"Prove!"  retorted  Jen  sharply,   "simply  that  it 


ISO  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

was  dropped  there  by  that  black  fiend  after  she 
had  killed  Maurice." 

"Do  you  really  think  she  killed  him?"  asked 
Lady  Meg,  her  face  growing  pale  with  the  intensity 
of  her   excitement. 

"I  do,"  replied  Jen,  decisively.  "But  the  evi- 
dence— ah,  the  evidence.  Well,"  he  added,  after  a 
pause,  "I  have  something  to  go  on,  in  this  re-filled 
devil-stick,  and  the  saturated  handkerchief. ' ' 

"But  I  don't  understand — " 

"Never  mind,  my  dear  lady,  you  will  later  on," 
retorted  Jen,  with  a  nod.  Then  turning  to  Batter- 
sea,  he  resumed  his  examination.  "You  know  the 
negress.  Dido,  who  is  in  the  employment  of  Mrs. 
Dallas?"  he  asked,  mildly. 

"Yes,  sir,  an'  hawful  female  she  is!" 

"How  so?" 

"Well,  sir."  Battersea  scratched  his  shock  head. 
"She  knows  things  as  ain't  good  for  'er.  'Bout 
that  devil-stick  es  you  talks  of." 

"Oh,"  cried  Jen,  recalling  Dido's  denial,  "she 
knows  of  that,  does  she?" 

"Yes,  sir,  she  do.  Arsked  me  'bout  it,  but  I 
knowed  nuffin,  I  didn't." 

"What  did  she  say  to  you  concerning  it?" 

"Well,  sir,  when  I  brought  a  message  from  Dr. 
Etwald  'bout  that  devil -stick — ' ' 

"What!"  cried  Jen,  interrupting  sharply.  "Did 
Dr.  Etwald  know  about  it  also?" 


CROSS-EXAMINATION.  151 

"He  did,  sir.  Leastways  he  arsked  me  to  arsk 
Dido  'bout  it." 

"I  thought  as  much,"  said  Jen,  in  an  excited 
tone.  Then  after  a  pause,  he  added:  "Battersea, 
would  you  like  free  quarters  and  plenty  of  food 
and  drink  for  a  week?" 

"I  ain't  a  fool,  sir,"  said  the  tramp,  with  a 
sheepish  grin.     "I  should,  you  bet." 

"In  that  case  go  down  to  the  kitchen  and  tell  my 
servants  from  me  that  you  are  to  stay  there.  Later 
on  I'll  see  you." 

"Thankee,  sir.  I'll  get  free  quarters  and  grub 
for  a  week,"  cried  Battersea,  rubbing  his  grimy 
hands.  "My  eye,  'ere's  oppolance.  Can  I  go  now, 
sir?" 

"At  once,"  replied  Jen,  and  pointed  to  the  door. 
Battersea  bowed  awkwardly  to  Lady  Meg  and  his 
benefactor;  then  he  went  out  of  the  room  and 
left  the  major  alone  with  his  visitor. 

"What  does  all  this  mean?"  asked  Meg,  quite  sur- 
prised at  Jen's  excitement. 

"Mean!"  cried  Jen,  in  a  tone  of  conviction. 
"Why!  that  Etwald  is  mixed  up  in  this  business 
also!" 


152  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 
THE  EVIDENCE  OF  JAGGARD. 

"Etwald!"  repeated  Lady  Meg,  thoughtfully. 
"Is  he  not  the  doctor  of  whom  you  have  made  so 
great  a  friend?" 

"Yes.  I  took  a  viper  to  my  bosom,  and  it  stung 
me,"  replied  Jen,  who,  in  his  excitement,  was  pacing 
backward  and  forward  with  hasty  steps.  "But  I 
shall  be  even  with  him.  In  some  way  or  another  I 
believe  it  is  possible  to  bring  home  to  him  this 
triple  crime. " 

"Do  you  think  he  is  guilty?" 

"I  am  certain  of  it.  Etwald  prophesied  to  my 
poor  lad,  in  his  charlatan  way,  that  if  he  wed  Miss 
Dallas,  or  even  announced  his  engagement  with 
her,  his  fate  would  be  of  life  in  death." 

"What  did  that  mean?" 

"Mean?  Death  without  the  addition  of  life. 
That  word  was  brought  in  solely  to  render  the 
prophecy — if  it  may  be  called  so — confusing. 
Etwald  was  in  love  with  Miss  Dallas.  He  found  in 
Maurice  a  formidable  rival.  He  warned  him  by  his 
pretended  prophecy  that  he  should  slay  him  if  he 
persisted  standing  in  his  path.  Maurice  announced 
his  engagement  upon  the  very  day  when  Etwald, 


THE  EVIDENCE  OF  JAGGARD.  153 

the  designing  scoundrel,  went  to  pay  his  addresses 
to  the  girl.  From  that  moment  he  doomed  Mau- 
rice to  death.  Yes,  I  truly  believe  that  such  was  his 
design,  and  that  he  offered  to  buy  the  devil-stick  in 
order  to  carry  out  his  criminal  intention." 

"Did  he  ask  to  buy  the  devil-stick?"  demanded 
Lady  Meg,  in  surprise. 

"Twice;  and  both  times  I  refused  to  part  with  it. 
Failing  to  get  it  honestly,  he  stole  it. " 

"You  have  no  proof  of  that." 

"I  don't  know  so  much  about  that,  "  retorted  Jen 
sharply.  "You  heard  what  Battersea  confessed, 
that  he  had  taken  a  message  from  Etwald  to  Dido 
about  the  devil-stick.  Well,  this  doctor  has  some 
mysterious,  influence  over  this  negress — what  sort 
of  influence  I  do  not  know,  but  she  appears  to  be 
afraid  of  him.  I  believe  he  incited  her  to  steal  the 
devil-stick,  and  that  by  his  directions  she  filled  it 
with  a  fresh  poison. " 

"But  could  she  prepare  the  special  kind  of  poison 
required?" 

"Assuredly.  She  confessed  as  much.  Her 
grandmother  came  from  Ashantee,  where  this  devil- 
stick  is  used  for  the  purpose  of  destroying  people. 
Dido  inherits  a  knowledge  of  the  family  secrets,  and 
knows  how  to  make  this  poison.  It  cures  nervous 
headaches — that  is,  the  perfume  of  it  does — and 
Dido  made  some  with  which  she  saturated  a  handker- 
chief to  bind  round  the  head  of  her  young  mistress.  " 

"How  do  you  know  that  the  poisons  are  the  same?" 


154  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

"From  the  peculiar,  sickly,  heavy  odor,"  explained 
Jen,  promptly;  and  continued :  "Well,  you  can  see 
the  rest  for  yourself.  Dido  filled  that  devil-stick 
with  the  poison,"  he  pointed  to  the  article  on  the 
table,  "some  of  it  remains  in  the  wand  yet.  Etwald 
used  the  devil-stick  to  kill  Maurice,  and  on  going 
back  to  tell  Dido  of  his  success  I  have  no  doubt  he 
dropped  it  inside  the  gates  of  Mrs.  Dallas'  grounds, 
where,  as  you  have  heard,  it  was  found  by  Batter- 
sea.  Oh,  it  is  as  plain  as  day  to  me, "  cried  Jen, 
vehemently.  "Etwald  killed  Maurice  and  stole  the 
devil-stick  to  accomplish  the  murder. ' ' 

"You  have  certainly  made  out  a  strong  case  against 
this  man,"  said  Meg,  after  a  pause,  "but  it  is  all 
theory.     Your  proofs?" 

"I  shall  find  them." 

"That  will  be  difficult." 

"Doubtless.  I  hardly  anticipated  an  easy  task 
when  I  undertook  to  learn  who  killed  my  dear  lad. 
Besides,  David  will  help  me." 

Lady  Meg  sighed,  and  rising  to  her  feet,  she  drew 
her  cloak  round  her  tall  form. 

"I  shall  help  you  also,"  she  said  sadly.  "That  is, 
if  you  will  accept  of  my  help." 

"Assuredly.     You  loved  Maurice — " 

"To  my  cost,  major;  but  he  did  not  love  me. 
This  girl — this  Miss  Dallas,"  she  added  in  a  falter- 
ing voice,  "slie  must  be  very  lovely,  for  Mr.  Sarby 
loves  her  also.  A  woman  who  has  three  men  at 
her  feet  must  be  wonderful," 


THE  EVIDENCE  OF  JAGGARD.  155 

Jen  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"She is  certainly  beautiful,"  said  he,  indifferently, 
"but  she  fs  not  clever,  and  her  weak  nature  is 
enslaved  by  the  gross  superstitions  of  Dido. ' ' 

' '  I  should  not  think  from  your  description  that  she 
was  likely  to  attract  Maurice,"  said  Lady  Meg,  in  a 
low  voice;  "but  undoubtedly  he  loved  her  dearly; 
and  I — "  She  made  a  gesture  of  despair  and 
moved  toward  the  door.  On  the  threshold  she 
paused  and  held  out  her  hand.  "Good-by,  major; 
should  I  hear  anything  further  I  shall  let  you  know. 
But  the  tramp?" 

"I  shall  keep  him  here." 

"Be  careful  lest  he  goes  away. " 

"Oh,  there  is  no  fear  of  that,"  said  Jen,  in  a  con- 
fident tone.  "Free  quarters  and  plenty  of  food  will 
keep  Battersea  in  my  kitchen.  If  he  were  guilty  of 
the  crime,  he  would  not  stay,  but  as  it  is  he  will 
remain  imder  my  eye.  I  intend  to  question  him 
further  about  the  connection  between  Dido  and 
Etwald;  I  wonder  what  power  the  doctor  holds  over 
the  negress. " 

"You  can  learn  that  only  from  the  woman  her- 
self." 

"Or  from  Etwald,"  rejoined  Jen.  "If  I  can  only 
succeed  in  having  him  arrested  he  may  confess  all. " 

"Let  us  hope  he  will,"  replied  Lady  Meg,  and 
after  shaking  hands  again  with  Jen,  she  took  her 
departure. 

When  the  major  had  seen  her  carriage  drive  away 


15^  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

he  returned  to  look  after  the  devil-stick,  and  exam- 
ined it  long  and  carefully.  Undoubtedly  it  had  been 
filled  with  fresh  poison,  and  undoubtedly  the  poison, 
from  the  evidence  heretofore  set  forth,  had  been 
prepared  by  Dido.  Jen  was  more  certain  than  ever 
that  Etwald  and  the  negress  had  stolen  the  devil- 
stick  and  had  slain  Maurice  with  it.  But  the  theft 
of  the  body!  It  was  that  which  puzzled  him.  He 
could  understand  why  Etwald  wanted  Maurice 
removed  from  his  path.  He  could  explain,  on 
those  grounds,  why  the  devil-stick  had  been  stolen. 
But  what  reason  could  the  pair  have  for  the  removal 
of  the  body?  The  poor  boy  had  died,  and  his  corpse 
could  be  of  no  use  to  those  who  had  murdered  him. 
Yet  it  had  disappeared,  and  the  only  person  who 
could  give  any  evidence  as  to  who  had  entered  the 
room  on  that  fatal  night  was  Jaggard.  But  up  to 
the  present  moment  Jaggard  had  remained  incapable 
of  giving  any  clear  evidence.  Absolutely  certain 
that  Etwald  was  guilty,  that  Dido  was  an  accom- 
plice, Jen  could  not  see  his  way  to  proving  his  case 
without  the  assistance  of  Jaggard, 

At  first  he  thought  of  going  into  Deanminster  for 
the  purpose  of  speaking  with  Inspector  Arkel  about 
the  discovery  of  the  devil-stick;  but  upon  reflection 
he  deemed  it  wiser  not  to  do  so,  at  all  events  for  the 
present.  Arkel  could  come  only  to  the  same  con- 
clusion as  himself — namely,  that  Battcrsea,  innocent 
of  the  crime,  had  picked  up  the  devil-stick  on  the 
grounds  of  Mrs.   Dallas.     Regarding  his  suspicions 


THE  EVIDENCE  OF  JAGGARD.  157 

of  Etwald,  the  major  determined  to  keep  these  to 
himself  until  he  was  in  a  position  to  prove  them; 
for  if  Etwald  were  guilty,  the  slightest  hint  that  the 
police  were  on  his  track  would  be  sufficient  to  put 
him  on  his  guard.  Against  so  clever  a  man  as  the 
doctor,  Arkel,  with  his  clumsy  methods,  could  do 
nothing.  For  the  present,  therefore,  Jen  decided 
to  hold  his  tongue. 

While  the  major  was  thus  considering  what  step 
he  should  take,  David,  returning  from  a  long  and 
solitary  walk,  entered  the  room.  Of  late  the  young 
man  had  indulged  in  these  lonely  excursions,  whence 
he  always  returned  more  melancholy  than  ever.  His 
fine  face  was  lean  and  worn,  there  were  dark  circles 
under  his  eyes,  and  his  manner,  formerly  noted  for 
its  composure,  was  now  nervous  and  hesitating.  On 
approaching  his  guardian  he  saw  the  devil-stick 
on  the  table,  and  at  once  his  pale  face  grew  yet 
paler. 

"Where  did  you  find  it?"  he  asked,  pointing  a 
trembling  finger  at  the  terrible  piece  of  evidence. 

"I  did  not  find  it  at  all,"  rejoined  the  major, 
gloomily j^  "Lady  Meg  brought  it  to  me." 

"And  she — she " 

"She  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  matter,"  replied 
Jen,  surprised  at  the  agitation  of  the  young  man. 
"It  was  Battersea  who  found  it.  He  offered  it  for 
sale  to  Lady  Meg,  and  she  brought  it  and  the  tramp 
to  me." 

"Battersea!"  said  David,  repeating  the  name  in  a 


158  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

puzzled  tone.  "How  did  he  become  possessed  of 
it?     Has  he  anything  to  do  with  the  crime?" 

"No.  He  found  the  devil-stick  within  the 
grounds  of  Mrs.  Dallas,  near  the  gates." 

"Who  lost  it  there?"  asked  Sarby,  abruptly. 

"Ah!"  replied  Jen,  in  a  meaning  tone.  "Tell  me 
that  and  I  '11  have  the  assassin  of  our  dear  Maurice 
within  the  walls  of  Deanminster  jail  before  the  year 
is  twenty-four  hours  older. ' ' 

David  looked  at  Jen  in  astonishment. 

"Have  you  any  idea  as  to  the  guilty  person?"  he 
asked,  in  a  hurried  tone. 

"I  think  so;  it  is  my  belief,  David,  that  Dr. 
Etwald  killed  Maurice!'; 

"Impossible!     For  what  reason?" 

' '  Because  he  wants  to  marry  Isabella  Dallas. ' ' 

"In  that  case  he  should  rather  have  killed  me 
than  poor  Maurice,  for,  as  my  suit  to  Isabella  was 
supported  by  Mrs.  Dallas,  I  was  the  more  formid- 
able rival  of  the  two." 

"I  don't  think  so,  my  boy.  Isabella  loved  Mau- 
rice, and  to  marry  him  she  would  have  rebelled 
against  her  mother.  But  I  daresay  if  you  become 
engaged  to  her,  Etwald  will  remove  you  also  from 
his  path." 

' '  There  will  be  no  need  for  him  to  do  that, ' '  replied 
David,  coldly.     "I  shall  never  marry  Isabella." 

"What  do  you  say?  I  thought  you  loved  the 
girl?" 


THE  EVIDENCE  OF  JAGGARD.  159 

"I  do  love  her,"  cried  David,  vehemently.  "I 
have  always  loved  her,  and  shall  continue  to  do  so 
until  the  day  of  my  death.  All  the  same,  I  shall 
never  become  her  husband." 

"Why?" 

"For  certain  reasons!"  said  Sarby,  evasively. 

"What  are  those  reasons?" 

"I  can't  tell  you." 

"Have  they  anything  to  do  with  the  death  of 
Maurice?" 

"Don't  ask  me,  major.  I  would  tell  you  if  I  could, 
but  it  is  impossible." 

Jen  rose  to  leave  the  room,  more  wounded  than 
he  chose  to  confess. 

"Of  course,  my  boy,"  he  said  rather  bitterly,  "if 
you  choose  to  withhold  your  confidence  from  me,  I 
have  no  right  to  force  you  to  speak.  All  the  same 
as  I  have  been  a  second  father  to  you,  I  think  you 
should  be  more  open  with  me. ' ' 

"I  would  tell  you  if  I  could,"  said  David  again, 
but  in  rather  a  sullen  manner;  "but  I  have  reasons, 
strong  reasons,  for  not  doing  so.  Later  on — "  he 
paused  nervously. 

"Well?"  demanded  Jen,  coldly,  seeing  the  hesita- 
tion of  the  man. 

"Later  on,  I  may  tell  you  all  I  know." 

"All  you  know!"  repeated  Jen,  in  a  startled  tone. 
"About  this  crime?" 

"Yes.  I  know  something,  but  what  it  is  I  dare 
not  tell  you  now,  Uncle  Jen,"  he  added,  gravely 


i6o  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

looking  at  the  elder.  ' '  If  you  are  wise,  you  will  not 
pursue  your  inquiry." 

"And  why  not,  may  I  ask,  David?" 

"Ah!"  said  Sarby,  walking  toward  the  door, 
"you  will  know  the  reason  when  you  learn  the 
truth!" 

After  this  enigmatical  remark  he  hurriedly  left 
the  room,  for  the  purpose,  without  doubt,  of  escap- 
ing further  questioning.  His  demeanor  completely 
puzzled  Jen,  who  could  not  make  out  the  meaning 
of  his  conversation.  Evidently  David  knew  some- 
thing which  he  was  unwilling  to  reveal— something 
which  might  lead  to  the  solution  of  the  profoimd 
mystery  which  enwrapped  the  death  of  Maurice  and 
the  extraordinary  disappearance  of  his  body. 

The  more  Jen  thought  about  the  matter  the  more 
perplexed  did  he  become.  The  recovered  devil- 
stick,  found  in  the  groimds  of  Mrs.  Dallas,  the  satur- 
ated handkerchief  found  in  the  bedroom  of  the  dead 
man;  and  now  the  unaccountable  hints  of  David 
that  he  knew  something  likely  to  throw  a  light 
upon  these  mysteries,  joined  with  an  equally 
unaccountable  refusal  to  afford  such  revelation,  all 
these  things  puzzled  him ;  but  as  it  was  impossible 
in  the  absence  of  actual  knowledge,  to  come  to  any 
reasonable  decision,  Jen  determined  to  see  Jaggard 
and  see  how  he  was.  If  Jaggard  could  only  recover 
his  senses,  argued  the  major,  he  would  be  able  to 
say  who  had  stolen  the  body.  Moreover,  in  Jen's 
opinion,  the  person  who  committed  the  second  crime 


THE  EVIDENCE  OF  JAGGARD.  i6i 

would  most  probably,  by  the  force  of  analogous 
reasoning,  have  committed  the  first. 

To  the  major's  surprise,  he  found  that  Jaggard 
had  recovered  his  senses,  and  although  still  weak 
from  his  accident  and  long  insensibility,  he  was 
able  to  talk  fairly  well.  Jen  was  puzzled  by  this 
sudden — that  is,  this  comparatively  sudden — recov- 
ery; and  he  expressed  himself  somewhat  forcibly  to 
the  housemaid  Anne,  who  had  been  watching  for 
so  long  by  the  bedside  of  the  sick  man.  The  woman, 
with  the  shrewdness  of  her  class,  gave  her  opinion 
as  to  its  reason. 

"Ever  since  that  handkerchief  has  been  removed 
sir,"  said  she,  earnestly,  "Jaggard  has  got  well.  I 
do  believe,  sir,  that  the  scent  on  it  kept  the  poor 
dear  stupid. ' ' 

Another  light  was  let  in  on  Jen's  mind.  Here 
was  the  handkerchief  again — perfumed  with  the 
devil-stick  decoction  of  poison  by  Dido,  applied  by 
the  hand  of  Etwald,  and  its  design  was  evidently  to 
keep  Jaggard  in  a  state  of  stupor  and  prevent  him 
from,  making  dangerous  disclosures.  Dido  and 
Etwald  once  more  in  partnership.  Jen  was  more 
convinced  than  ever  that  the  pair  were  at  the  bot- 
tom of  the  whole  terrible  affair. 

"I  am  glad  to  see  that  you  are  better,  Jaggard," 
he  said,  while  standing  by  the  bed. 

"Yes,  sir,  thank  you,  sir,"  replied  the  man,  in  a 
weak  voice.  "I'm  sorry,  sir,  but  I  couldn't  help 
myself.     I  was  drugged,  sir. " 


i62  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

"I  guessed  as  much,"  said  Jen,  grimly.  "And 
who  drugged  you?" 

"That  black  devil,  Dido,  sir,"  replied  Jaggard, 
faintly. 

"I  guessed  as  much,"  said  the  major  once  more. 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  NIGHT.  163 


CHAPTER  XVII. 
THE  STORY  OF  THE  NIGHT. 

Exhausted  by  the  few  words  which  he  had  spoken, 
Jaggard  fell  back  on  his  pillows  in  a  dead  faint. 
Seeing  that  further  conversation  was  impossible  at 
the  present  moment,  Jen  left  the  patient  to  the 
tender  attention  of  Anne,  and  withdrew  to  seek 
David.  He  found  him  in  a  melancholy  mood,  pacing 
up  and  down  the  lawn  before  the  window  of  the 
smoking-room.  On  perceiving  his  guardian,  Sarby 
turned  pale,  for  he  thought  that  Jen  had  come  to 
continue  their  previous  conversation,  and  so  force 
his  confidence.  But  the  first  words  of  the  major  at 
once  undeceived  him. 

"Well,  David!"  said  the  newcomer,  with  signifi- 
cance, "I  have  made  one  discovery  without  your 
help." 

"A  discovery.     What  is  it?" 

"I  know  who  drugged  Jaggard.  I  have  learned 
who  stole  the  body  of  Maurice!" 

"Then  you  know  more  than  I  do,"  replied  David, 
with  all  the  appearance  of  truth.  "My  knowledge 
extends  only  to  the  death ;  not  to  the  seizure  of  the 
body." 

"And  you   refuse   to   aid   me,"  said   the  major. 


i64  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

reproachfully;  "well,  keep  your  secret,  I  may  be 
able  to  do  without  your  help.  But,"  added  Jen,  fix- 
ing a  piercing  glance  on  the  young  man,  "I  notice 
that  you  do  not  ask  me  the  name  of  the  person  who 
drugged  Jaggard." 

"Because  I  guess  the  name." 

"Ah!" 

"Mrs.  Dallas,"  said  David,  faintly.  "It  was  Mrs. 
Dallas." 

Jen  drew  back  a  step  and  looked  at  his  ward  with 
marked  surprise. 

"No,"  he  said,  at  length.  "Mrs.  Dallas  has  had 
nothing  to  do  with  it." 

"But  I  thought  from  what  you  said  of  the  handker- 
chief dropped  in  the  room — " 

"That  being  the  property  of  Mrs.  Dallas,  she  had 
lost  it  there,"  interrupted  Jen,  smartly.  "No.  I 
told  yoa  also  that  Isabella  had  confessed  to  having 
dropped  it  at  the  time  of  her  midnight  visit.  But 
now  I  know  that  she  told  me  a  lie !" 

"Isabella!     A  lie!     Impossible!" 

"Not  at  all,"  rejoined  Jen,  coldly.  "I  can  imder- 
stand  her  reason  for  telling  the  lie.  She  wanted  to 
shield—" 

"Her  mother!"  cried  David,  quickly  interrupting 
in  his  turn. 

' '  Your  mind  seems  to  run  on  the  mother,  David, ' ' 
said  Jen,  looking  again  at  Sarby  with  keen  inquisi- 
tiveness.  "Can  you  prove  by  any  chance  that  she 
committed  the  crime?" 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  NIGHT.  165 

Sarby  flushed  and  drew  back  with  cold  reserve. 

"No,  Uncle  Jen,  I  can't.     I  have  my  suspicions." 

"Against  Mrs.  Dallas?" 

"Well,  yes;  but  I  can  prove  nothing  against  her." 

"It  pleases  you  to  be  mysterious,  David.  Shortly 
I  shall  insist  upon  an  explanation." 

"Insist!"  repeated  the  young  man,  annoyed  by  the 
peremptory  tone  of  his  guardian. 

' '  Yes.  You  owe  it  to  me — your  second  father — to 
tell  the  truth.  You  owe  it  to  your  dead  brother's 
memory — for  assuredly  Maurice  was  your  brother. '  * 

David  .stared  sullenly  at  the  ground,  but  in  a 
moment  or  two  he  lifted  his  head  in  a  defiant  manner. 

"I  owe  you  much  more  than  I  can  ever  repay," 
said  he,  in  harsh  tones.  "All  the  same,  Uncle  Jen, 
I  cannot  reveal,  even  to  you,  what  I  know.  If  I  did 
so,  you  would  be  the  first  to  blame  me." 

"I  don't  understand  you." 

"I  don't  understand  myself,"  said  the  young  man, 
despondently,  "save  that  I  am  the  most  miserable 
man  alive." 

"You  must  be,  if  you  know  who  killed  Maurice, 
yet  refuse  to  confess,"  retorted  Jen,  with  some  heat. 
"Will  you  tell  me  the  truth?  I  ask  you  for  the 
last  time." 

"And  I  answer  for  the  last  time  that  the  truth  is 
not  mine  to  tell,"  replied  David,  coldly.  "If  you 
doubt  me  question  Etwald. ' ' 

"What!  that  criminal?" 

David  looked  up  quickly. 


i66  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

"How  do  you  know  he  is  a  criminal?" 

"I  can't  give  you  my  reasons.  They  would  take 
too  long  to  explain.  But  I  believe  that  out  of  jeal- 
ousy he  killed  Maurice. ' ' 

"Oh,"  said  Sarby,  ironically;  "and  out  of  jealousy 
he  stole  the  body?" 

"No.     Dido  did  that.  " 

"Dido?" 

An  expression  of  surprise  appeared  on  the  pale 
face  of  the  younger  man. 

"Yes,  Dido!"  repeated  Jen,  firmly.  "Jaggard  has 
just  informed  me  that  it  was  Dido  who  drugged  him. 
Why  did  she  drug  him?  To  steal  the  body  of  my 
poor  lad.  Why  did  she  steal  the  body!  To  con- 
ceal the  crime  committed  by  Etwald. ' ' 

"I  don't  quite  understand." 

"Listen,  then,  and  I  shall  explain,"  resumed  the 
major,  with  growing  excitement.  "I  firmly  believe 
that  Etwald  stole  the  devil-stick,  and  with  it  killed 
Maurice. ' ' 

"From  a  motive  of  jealousy?" 

"Precisely.  As  you  know  the  body  was  stolen 
before  the  post-mortem  examination  could  be  made. 
Why  was  this?  Does  not  your  own  reason  find  an 
answer  to  that  question?" 

"No, "  replied  David,  still  obstinately  unconvinced. 

"Why,"  said  Jen,  with  a  nod,  "if  a  post-mortem 
examination  had  been  made,  traces  of  poison  would 
have  been  discovered.  The  poison  would  have 
been  proved  as  identical  with  that  of  the  devil-stick. 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  NIGHT.  167 

Thus,  beyond  all  doubt,  we  should  have  learned  that 
Maurice  had  been  killed  by  the  devil-stick." 

"Well?" 

"Well!"  repeated  Jen,  in  an  irritated  tone,  "can 
you  not  rouse  that  dull  brain  of  yours  to  some  under- 
standing? To  avert  the  discovery,  and  to  prevent 
the  analysis  of  the  poison  in  the  body.  Dido,  under 
the  direction  of  Dr.  Etwald,  committed  the  third 
crime. " 

"But  why  should  Dido  act  so  under  Etwald?" 

"Because  the  man  has  some  power  over  her. 
What  that  power  may  be,  I  know  no  more  than  you 
do.  Although,"  added  Jen,  with  an  afterthought, 
"you  may  be  able  to  explain." 

"No.  I  have  no  idea  why  Dido  should  serve 
Etwald." 

Evidently  it  was  impossible  to  extract  information 
from  so  impenetrable  a  man.  Jen  was  thoroughly 
enraged  by  this  display  of  obstinacy  in  a  quarter 
where  he  least  expected  to  find  it.  Usually  sweet- 
tempered — especially  toward  his  boys — the  major 
quite  lost  control  of  his  passion  at  the  moment. 

"Take  care,  David,"  he  said,  in  an  angry  manner. 
"You  are  forcing  me  to  believe  that  you  are  acting 
in  this  way  from  an  unworthy  motive.  It  is  your 
duty  to  aid  me  in  discovering  and  punishing  the 
murderer  of  Maurice.  Yet  you  leave  me  to  do  all 
the  work  and  refuse  your  assistance  in  any  way. 
Unless  you  alter  your  manner,  and  take  me  into 
your  confidence  regarding  the  reason  of  this  strange 


i6S  FOR  THE  DEFExNSE. 

behavior,   a  breach  not  easily  mended  may  occur 
between  us." 

He  paused,  waiting  for  his  ward  to  make  some 
reply  in  defense  of  his  conduct.  The  young  man 
neither  moved  nor  spoke,  but,  paler  than  usual,  he 
stood  before  the  major  with  his  eyes  on  the  ground. 
More  in  sorrow  than  in  anger,  Jen  looked  at  him,  then 
turned  on  his  heel  with  a  shrug,  and  walked  into  the 
house.    David  looked  after  him  with  quivering  lips. 

"If  he  only  knew  the  truth,"  said  he,  wiping  the 
perspiration  from  his  face,  "what  would  he  say? 
What  would  he  do?  He  blames  me  now;  would  he 
blame  me  then?" 

In  the  meantime,  while  Sarby  was  indulging  in 
this  enigmatical  soliloquy.  Major  Jen  was  pursuing 
his  way  toward  the  room  of  Jaggard.  Despairing  of 
obtaining  information  from  David  he  thought  it  pos- 
sible to  learn  the  truth — at  all  events  of  that  fatal 
night — from  Jaggard.  Honestly  speaking  the  major 
was  puzzled  by  the  conduct  of  his  ward.  Hitherto, 
he  had  always  considered  David  to  be  an  honest 
man,  but  at  the  present  time  his  conduct  savored  of 
duplicity.  Did  he  know  of  anything  relative  to  the 
triple  crime  which  had  been  committed?  If  so,  why 
did  he  not  speak?  Finally,  was  David  also  under  the 
fatal  influence  of  Dr.  Etwald — the  man  who,  Jen 
verily  believed,  was  the  source  of  all  these  woes? 

To  none  of  these  questions  could  the  major  find 
feasible  answers;  therefore  for  the  time  being — i.e., 
pending    the   narration   of  Jaggard — he    dismissed 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  NIGHT.  169 

them  from  his  mind.  It  was  possible  that  the  story 
of  the  invalid  might  throw  light  on  the  darkness 
which  overshadowed  the  case. 

As  Jen  anticipated,  he  found  that  Jaggard  had 
recovered  from  his  faint,  and  having  had  a  sleep 
during  the  long  absence  of  his  master,  was  much 
better.  As  usual,  Ann.e,  the  ill-favored  housemaid, 
was  watching  by  his  bedside ;  but  on  a  sign  from 
Jen,  she  left  the  room.  Finding  himself  alone  with 
his  servant,  Jen  addressed  himself  immediately  to 
the  business  in  hand. 

"Do  you  feel  stronger,  Jaggard?"  he  asked. 

' '  Much  stronger,  sir. " 

"Are  you  able  to  talk?" 

"I  think  so,  major — for  half-an-hour,  at  least!" 

" Half-an-hour  will  be  sufficient,"  said  the  major, 
in  a  serious  voice.  "I  wish  you  to  tell  me  what  took 
place  on  the  night  you  were  drugged." 

"About  Dido,  sir?" 

"Yes,  Jaggard,  about  Dido." 

The  invalid  remained  silent  for  a  time,  then  began 
to  speak  slowly  and  with  some  little  difficulty. 

"After  you  left  me,  sir,"  he  said  in  a  weak  voice, 
"I  remained  seated  in  my  chair  beside  the  bedside 
of  my  poor  young  master.  If  you  remember  there 
was  only  one  candle  in  the  room,  which  was  placed 
on  the  table,  some  little  distance  away.  I  examined 
the  window  and  found  it  closed." 

"You  are  sure  of  that?"  demanded  Jen,  anxiously. 

' '  Quite  sure,  sir.     It  was  bolted  and  barred.     The 


17©  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

door  was  simply  closed,  for  I  never  thought  of  lock- 
ing it,  as  I  fancied,  sir,  that  you  might  return  after 
midnight  to  see  if  all  was  right." 

"I  did  not,  however,  Jaggard.  I  fell  asleep  in  the 
library,  after  Mr.  Sarby  had  gone  to  bed;  and,  of 
course,  I  had  every  confidence  in  you." 

"Please  don't  say  that,  major,"  said  Jaggard, 
imploringly,  "as  I  did  my  best.  It  was  not  my  fault 
that  Dido  drugged  me.  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  why 
she  did  so, "  continued  Jaggard,  half  to  himself.  "I 
never  did  her  any  harm. ' ' 

The  major  looked  fixedly  at  the  man. 

"Do  you  not  know  what  occurred  during  the  time 
you  were  insensible?"  he  asked,  gravely. 

"No,  sir.     I've  only  got  my  wits  about  me  now." 

"Has  not  Anne  told  you?" 

"She  hasn't  told  me  anything,  sir." 

"Well,"  said  Jen,  seeing  that  the  man  spoke  in  all 
good  faith,  "the  body  of  Mr.  Maurice  was  stolen  on 
that  night. ' ' 

"The  body  stolen!"  repeated  Jaggard,  in  amaze- 
ment.    "For  why,  sir?" 

"I  can't  tell,  nor  can  anybody  else.  All  we  know 
is  that  at  three  o'clock  in  the  morning  we  entered 
Mr.  Maurice's  room  and  found  the  window  open, 
the  body  gone,  and  you  insensible." 

"The  window  open,"  said  Jaggard,  thoughtfully. 
"Then  it  must  have  been  opened  from  the  inside, 
sir." 

"By  Dido,  no  doubt." 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  NIGHT.  171 

"I'm  certain  of  it,  major;  and  it  was  that  black 
witch  who  stole  the  body.  " 

"How  did  she  get  into  the  room?" 

"She  was  hidden  imder  the  bed,  sir." 

"Under  the  bed!  Are  you  sure?"  said  Jen, 
greatly  startled  by  this  information. 

"Yes,  major.  It  was  this  way.  I  was  seated  by 
the  bed,  at  the  foot  of  it,  with  my  face  to  the  door. 
The  window,  as  I  said,  was  locked.  She  could  not 
have  got  in  at  the  window,  and  had  she  entered  by 
the  door  I  should  have  seen  her.  Besides,"  added 
Jaggard,  in  a  faint  voice,  "she  grabbed  me  from 
behind." 

"From  behind?" 

"Yes,  sir.  I  was  not  quite  asleep,  but  a  kind  of 
dozing  in  my  chair.  I  don't  know  what  it  was  made 
me  sleepy,  as  I  was  wideawake  when  you  left,  sir. 
But  there  was  a  kind  of  heavy,  sleepy  smell  about." 

"I  know,  I  know — the  devil-stick  perfume." 

"Well,  sir,  the  smell  made  me  sleepy;  and  though 
I  heard  a  noise  behind  me  I  could  not  turn  my 
head.  I  was  just  as  if  in  a  nightmare,  sir.  Then 
the  black  arm  of  that  witch  came  from  behind  me 
and  grabbed  at  my  throat,  and  she  held  a  handker- 
chief with  that  stuff  on  it  to  my  nose." 

"Ah,  "  said  Jen,  to  himself,  "I  knew  that  Isabella 
was  speaking  falsely.  Go  on,  Jaggard,"  he  added 
aloud.     "Why  did  you  not  call  out?" 

"I  couldn't,  sir.  I  felt  as  in  a  dream ;  but  I  turned 
and  tried  to  fight  her.     She  pushed  me  over,  and  I 


172  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

fell  like  a  log.  I  think  I  must  have  hit  my  head  on 
a  corner  of  the  bed,  for  I  felt  a  cruel  pain  at  the 
back  of  it. ' ' 

"You  did  wound  your  head,  Jaggard;  and  after 
that  fall  you  remembered  no  more?" 

"No,  sir,  not  till  to-day.  I  don't  know  what  it  all 
means,  sir,  but  I'm  sure  I  know  how  Dido  got  into 
the  room." 

" Ah !     That  is  what  I  wish  to  learn.     Well?' ' 

"If  you  remember,  sir.  Dido  called  to  see  you  that 
day." 

"Yes.  To  ask  if  I  would  see  her  mistress;  a 
most  unnecessary  question." 

"It  was  a  blind,  sir;  and  when  she  left  the  room 
I  don't  believe  she  left  the  house." 

"What  makes  you  think  so?" 

"Sir,  I  took  Dido  out  to  the  door,  and  while  I  was 
telling  her  to  go  away.  Dr.  Etwald  came  out.  He 
told  me  he  would  see  after  her,  and  I  left  them 
alone.  Now,  sir,"  said  Jaggard,  with  emphasis,  "I 
do  believe  as  Dr.  Etwald  took  that  black  jade  to  the 
room  of  Mr,  Maurice  and  hid  her  under  the  bed. ' ' 


THE  DEVIL-STICK  THIEF.  173 


CHAPTER  XVIII.  • 
THE  DEVIL-STICK  THIEF. 

This  long  conversation  had  somewhat  exhausted 
Jaggard,  who  was  yet  weak,  so,  telling  him  to  cease 
from  talking,  Jen  recalled  the  housemaid,  and  left 
the  room  to  think  over  all  that  he  had  learned.  The 
story  of  Jaggard  convinced  him  more  than  ever  that 
Dr.  Etwald  was  the  cause  of  all  the  terrible  events 
which  had  occurred  within  the  last  few  weeks. 
Without  doubt  it  was  he  who  had  treacherously 
hidden  Dido  in  the  chamber  of  death.  After  drug- 
ging Jaggard,  the  negress  no  doubt  had  opened  the 
window  to  admit  Etwald,  and  between  them  this 
precious  pair  had  carried  ofiB  the  dead  body.  But  for 
what  reason?     This  Jen  could  not  determine. 

To  learn  the  truth,  he  thought  it  advisable  to  call 
at  "The  Wigwam"  and  interrogate  Dido.  With  the 
evidence  of  Jaggard  to  go  on,  the  major  felt  satisfied 
that  he  could  by  threatening  her  with  arrest,  force 
her  into  confessing  the  whole  nefarious  plot.  Who 
had  thieved  the  devil-stick?  Who  had  slain  Mau- 
rice? Who  had  stolen  the  body?  Undoubtedly, 
Etwald  was  the  villain  who  was  guilty  of  all  three 
crimes,  and  the  evidence  of  Dido  would  be  sufficient 
to  convict  him  of  the  deeds. 


174  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

"Yes,"  said  Jen  to  himself  that  night,  as  he 
retired  to  bed,  "to-day  I  have  learned  sufficient  to 
implicate  Etwald ;  to-morrow  I  shall  be  able  to  con- 
vict him.     Dido  must  confess  or  go  to  prison. " 

Angered  by  the  selfish  way  in  which  David  had 
acted,  Jen  did  not  communicate  his  discoveries  to 
the  young  man.  During  the  night  he  took  counsel 
with  himself,  and  the  next  morning  he  acted  upon 
the  plans  which  he  had  formed.  These  were,  to  see 
Dido  and  force  the  truth  from  her,  to  send  Battersea 
to  Deanminster  to  fetch  both  Arkel  and  Dr.  Etwald 
to  "Ashantee,"  and  finally  to  communicate  his  dis- 
coveries to  the  inspector  and  get  him  to  arrest 
Etwald.  Once  in  prison,  and  the  doctor,  intimidated 
by  a  fear  of  death  at  the  hands  of  justice,  might 
confess  his  crimes,  and  his  reasons  for  committing 
them.  This  straightforward  course  was  the  only 
one  to  pursue. 

After  breakfast,  therefore,  the  major  wrote  two 
notes.  One  for  Arkel,  asking  him  to  be  at 
"Ashantee"  by  noon,  as  the  writer  had  important 
matters  to  discuss ;  the  other  for  Etwald,  requesting 
him  to  call  and  see  Jaggard,  who,  added  Jen,  sig- 
nificantly in  the  letter,  had  recovered  his  senses. 
Having  thus  prepared  his  trap  for  the  doctor  to 
walk  into,  Jen  delivered  the  letters  to  Battersea, 
with  instructions  to  set  off  at  once  for  Deanminster. 
The  tramp,  anxious  to  keep  in  favor  with  Jen  for 
cupboard  reasons,  lost  no  time  in  departing,  and 
when  the  major  had  seen  him  safely  out  of  the  gates, 


THE  DEVIL-STICK  THIEP.  175 

he  took  his  way  toward  "The  Wigwam"  for  the  all- 
important  interview  with  Dido. 

Before  his  departure  he  had  left  a  message  for 
David,  who  had  not  made  his  appearance  at  break- 
fast, requesting  the  young  man  to  be  in  the  library 
at  noon. 

"If  I  can  force  the  truth  out  of  Dido,"  thought 
Jen,  strolling  slowly  along  in  the  hot  sunshine, ' '  I  may 
get  the  better  of  Etwald.  Then,  when  David  sees 
that  the  doctor  is  in  the  trap,  and  in  danger  of  arrest 
for  murder,  he  may  relate  what  he  knows.  Though 
upon  my  word,"  considered  the  major,  frowning, 
"I  don't  see  what  information  he  can  possibly  add 
to  what  1  have  obtained  from  Jaggard,  or  what  I  am 
likely  to  wring  from  the  unwilling  lips  of  Dido. 
Etwald  is  the  guilty  person.  David  can  tell  me  no 
more  than  that. ' ' 

On  arriving  at  "The  Wigwam,"  Jen  presented  his 
card,  and  was  shown  into  the  drawing-room,  there 
to  wait  the  arrival  of  Mrs.  Dallas.  Although  it  was 
nearly  eleven  o'clock  the  indolent  Creole  was  not  yet 
out  of  bed,  but  on  hearing  that  the  major  had  called 
to  see  her,  she  sent  Dido  to  inform  him  that  she 
would  shortly  accord  him  an  interview.  The  ne- 
gress,  as  gloomy  and  sullen  as  ever,  delivered  this 
message  with  folded  arms  and  bent  head.  Then,  with- 
out even  a  look  at  him,  she  turned  to  leave  the  room, 
when  Jen  placed  himself  between  her  and  the 
door. 

"Not  yet.  Dido,"  he  said,  in  a  cold  voice.     "It  is 


176  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

true  that  I  called  to  see  your  mistress;  but  I  wish  to 
speak  to  you  also. ' ' 

Dido  started,  and  cast  an  inquiring  look  at  the 
impassive  face  of  the  white  man, 

"What  you  wish,  sah?"  she  said,  in  a  grave  voice, 
as  emotionless  as  that  of  Jen's. 

"To  ask  you  a  few  questions  about  the  devil-stick. " 

"Massa,  I  say  all  I  know  ob  de  debble-stick!" 

"Indeed,  you  did  not.  Dido.  You  did  not  inform 
me  that  by  Dr.  Etwald's  directions  you  filled  the 
devil-stick  with  poison,  or  that  you  steeped  the  hand- 
kerchief found  in  the  room  of  Mr.  Alymer  in  the 
same  poison  for  the  purpose  of  drugging  my  ser- 
vant; or  again,  that  you  concealed  yourself  under 
the  bed,  and  afterward  drugged  him." 

A  kind  of  terror  showed  itself  in  the  dilated  eyes 
of  the  negress.  She  could  not  understand  how  Jen 
had  become  possessed  of  a  knowledge  of  her  crimes, 
and  at  first  was  struck  with  stupor  by  the  recital. 

Speedily,  however,  she  recovered  herself,  and 
with  a  dark  smile  of  contempt  and  pity  she  was 
about  to  deny  all,  when  Jen  brought  out  his  last 
accusation. 

"Nor,"  said  he,  fixing  his  eyes  on  the  woman, 
"did  you  confess  that  you  opened  the  window  of 
Mr.  Alymer's  room,  and  aided  Dr.  Etwald  to  carry 
away  the  dead  body?" 

"De — de — dead — dead!"  she  stammered,  shrink- 
ing back. 

"Yes,  the  dead  body  of  Mr.  Alymer,  which  you 


THE  DEVIL-STICK  THIEF.  17? 

and  Dr.  Etwald  took  to  his  house  at  Deanminster. 
No  denial,  woman,"  said  Jen,  raising  his  voice,  as 
she  was.  about  to  speak.  "I  see  by  your  face  that 
you  are  guilty. ' ' 

Dido  trembled  all  over,  whether  from  rage  or  fear 
Jen  could  not  determine,  and  opened  her  mouth  to 
give  the  lie  to  her  accuser.  Then  she  shut  it  again, 
as  a  heavy  step  was  heard  outside  the  door.  A 
moment  later  and  Mrs.  Dallas,  with  a  face  expres- 
sive of  astonishment,  was  standing  on  the  threshold 
of  the  room ;  and  Dido  at  her  feet  was  making  the 
room  resound  like  a  jungle  with  bowlings  like  those 
of  a]wild  beast.  All  the  savage  nature  of  the  woman 
was  now  on  the  surface,  and  had  broken  through  the 
sullen  restraint  of  her  impassive  demeanor.  "What 
is  the  meaning  of  this?"  demanded  Mrs.  Dallas, 
with  an  uneasy  glance  at  the  frantic  negress. 

"I  shall  explain  when  Dido  stops  her  howling," 
said  Jen,  quite  undisturbed. 

"Dido!  Dido!"  remonstrated  Mrs.  Dallas,  shak- 
ing the  woman.     "Rise;  stop." 

"Oh,  missy!  missy!"  wept  the  negress,  getting 
onto  her  feet.  "It  all  am  a  lie,  what  dat  massa  say. 
Poo'  ole  Dido  know  nuffin' — do  nuffin'.  Lordy! 
Lordy !  de  big  lie. ' ' 

_jy[ajor  Jen  took  Dido  by  the  shoulder,  and  giving 
her  a  good  shake,  commanded  her  to  be  silent.  At 
once  the  negress — who  was  evidently  acting  a  part — 
ceased  her  outcries,  and  after  casting  her  eyes  sig- 
nificantly at  her  mistress,   stared   sullenly  at  the 


178  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

floor.  Mrs.  Dallas  turned  pale  at  this  rapid  glance, 
and  was  obliged  to  take  a  seat  to  prevent  herself 
from  falling.  Not  a  detail  of  this  by-play  was  lost 
upon  Jen,  who  saw  in  the  conduct  of  mistress  and 
servant  a  confirmation  of  his  suspicions.  However, 
he  added  nothing  to  his  previous  speech,  but  merely 
recapitulated — for  the  benefit  of  Mrs.  Dallas — the 
points  of  his  accusation  against  the  negress.  Dido 
heard  him  in  silence,  but  this  time  she  made  neither 
outcry  nor  denial. 

Mrs.  Dallas  appeared  to  be  horrified  by  the  recital. 
Every  now  and  then  she  cast  a  look  of  terror  at 
Dido,  while  passing  her  handkerchief  over  her  white 
lips.  When  the  major  concluded  she  could  only 
shake  her  head  and  stammer  a  few  words. 

"It  can  not  be  true,"  she  murmured.  "It  is  im- 
possible." 

"It  is  a  fact,"  insisted  Jen.  "I  have  the  evidence 
of  Jaggard  to  prove  that  Dido  was  in  the  room  on 
that  night." 

"Dido,"  cried  Mrs.  Dallas,  in  a  trembling  voice, 
"is  this  true?" 

The  negress  raised  her  wild  eyes  slowly  to  the  face 
of  her  mistress.  What  she  saw  therein  evidently 
determined  her  reply.  Without  a  word  she  bent  her 
head. 

"Ah,"  cried  Jen,  "you  admit  your  guilt?" 

"No,"  said  Dido,  bluntly,  "I  say  dat  I  in  de  room, 
but  I  no  kill  dat  man." 

"But  you  filled  the  devil-stick  with  fresh  poison?" 


THE  DEVIL-STICK  THIEF.  179 

"No,"  said  Dido  again.     "I  saw  no  debble-stick. " 

"It  was  found  in  these  grounds." 

"Dat  so;  but  I  not  see  dat  debble-stick." 

"Woman,"  cried  Jen,  with  energy,  "no  one  but 
you  could  manufacture  the  poison  with  which  the 
devil-stick  was  filled. ' ' 

' '  Dat  I  know ;  but  I  no  fill  de  debble-stick. ' ' 

"Then  who  did?" 

Dido  hesitated,  looked  at  Mrs.  Dallas,  and  came 
out  with  a  lie. 

"I  don't  know,"  she  said,  in  a  stolid  tone. 

Her  mistress  rose  to  her  feet  and  approached  the 
major. 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  that  Dido  killed  Mr,  Aly- 
fner?"  she  asked,  nervously. 

"No;  but  she  supplied  the  means  to  the  man  who 
did." 

"iThe  man  who  did!" 

"Yes;  Dr.  Etwald." 

"Dr.  Etwald!"  repeated  Mrs.  Dallas,  in  what 
seemed  to  Jen  to  be  a  tone  of  relief.  "Why  do  you 
think  he  killed  Mr.  Alymer?" 

"Because  Maurice  was  engaged  to  your  daughter, 
whom  he  wished  to  marry.  Etwald  killed  my  poor  lad, 
so  as  to  remove  a  dangerous  rival  from  his  path." 

"Impossible." 

"  By  no  means ;  and  Dido  manufactured  the  poison 
which  was  used." 

Mrs.  Dallas  considered. 

"I  know  to  what  you  allude,"  she  said,  after  a 


i8o  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

pause.  "Dido  does  manufacture  the  drug,  but  only 
for  the  cure  of  nervous  headaches." 

"Or  to  kill  men  with,"  rejoined  Jen,  ironically; 
"or  to  drug  the  watchers  of  the  dead." 

"The  watchers  of  the  dead!"  echoed  Mrs.  Dallas, 
with  a  start. 

"Well,  let  us  say  my  servant,  Jaggard.  He  was 
drugged  by  Dido,  and  she  stole  the  body,  or  rather 
she  aided  Etwald  to  do  so." 

"Dido,  is  this  true?" 

"Yis,"  said  the  negress,  coldly;  "de  great  massa 
told  me  to  do  dat. ' ' 

"The  great  master,"  repeated  Jen;  "you  mean 
Dr.  Etwald?" 

"Yis.     Dat  so." 

"He  took  away  the  body  of  Mr.  Alymer,  and  you 
helped  him?" 

"Yis." 

"Why  did  you  steal  the  body?" 

Dido  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"Ask  de  great  massa." 

"Where  did  you  take  it  to?"  demanded  Jen,  baffled 
in  one  direction  and  trying  another. 

"Ask  de  great  massa,"  said  Dido  once  more. 

"The  law  will  do  that." 

"The  law.  Major  Jen?"  said  Mrs.  Dallas,  alarmed. 

"Yes.     I  intend  to  have  Dr.  Etwald  arrested." 

"You  dare  not.     Why?" 

"On  three  charges.     First,  that  he  thieved  the 


THE  DEVIL-STICK  THIE^.  l8i 

devil-Stick;  second,  that  he  killed  Maurice;  and 
third,  that  he  stole  the  lad's  body.  " 

Mrs.  Dallas  fell  back  on  the  sofa,  with  a  white 
face.  Dido  laughed  in  a  guttural  fashion,  and 
shrugged  her  shoulders  contemptuously. 

"Voodoo!"  she  said,  and  laughed  again. 

The  major  guessed  that  she  meant  that  African 
witchcraft  would  avert  disaster  from  Etwald,  and  at 
once  flung  the  word  back  in  her  face. 

"Voodoo  will  not  help  the  doctor,"  said  he, 
quietly.  "This  is  a  civilized  country,  and  we  who 
inhabit  it  are  above  being  influenced  by  such  degrad- 
ing superstitions.  You  believe  in  Voodoo ;  in  Obi ; 
let  us  see  if  such  things  will  protect  you." 

"Do  you  mean  that  Dido  is  in  danger  of  arrest?" 
cried  Mrs.  Dallas,  in  a  terrified  tone. 

"Certainly,  as  the  accomplice  of  Etwald." 

"But  she  did  not  kill  Mr.  Alymer." 

"She  filled  the  devil-stick  with  the  poison  which  was 
used  to  kill  him,"  retorted  the  major,  coldly,  and  she 
confesses  to  having  aided  him  in  stealing  the  body. ' ' 

"Ah!' '  murmured  Mrs.  Dallas,  casting  a  haggard 
look  around.     "All  is  lost." 

"Are  you  alluding  to  Dido?"  demanded  Jen, 
rather  surprised  at  her  tone. 

Mrs.  Dallas  was  about  to  speak,  when  the  negress 
silenced  her  with  a  look,  and  raised  her  head  proudly. 

"Yis.  It  ole  Dido,"  she  said.  "But  ole  Dido  not 
lost.     Dat  great  massa,  he  look  after  ole  Dido." 

"If  you  mean  Dr.  Etwald,  he  will  have  enough  to 


i82  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

do  to  look  after  himself.  Well,  Mrs.  Dallas,  as  I 
have  learned  what  I  wished  to  know,  I  shall  now 
take  my  leave," 

"You  go  to  ruin  us,"  wept  Mrs.  Dallas. 

"No,"  said  Jen,  in  an  inflexible  voice.  "I  go  to 
punish  the  man  who  killed  my  boy." 

Without  another  word  he  left  the  room.  His  last 
glance  showed  that  Dido  had  gathered  her  sobbing 
mistress  in  her  arms,  and  was  staring  after  him  in  a 
defiant  manner.  At  the  front  door  Jen  heard  his 
name  called  softly,  and  Isabella,  with  a  rich  color  in 
her  usually  pale  cheeks,  came  flying  after  him. 

"Major,  major,  I  have  heard  all!  I  have  been 
listening  at  the  window." 

"Then  you  know  that  I  am  aware  of  your  decep- 
tion about  the  handkerchief?" 

"Yes.  I  did  not  speak  truly,"  stammered  Isabella, 
"but  I  could  not  act  otherwise.  It  was  to  save  a 
certain  person." 

"Dr.  Etwald?" 

"No,  not  Dr.  Etwald,  but  the  person  who  stole 
the  devil-stick." 

"Ah!  you  know  who  committed  the  first  of  the 
crimes,"  cried  Jen,  seizing  the  yoimg  girl's  arm. 
"Confess.  It  was  Dr.  Etwald  who  stole  the  wand 
of  sleep." 

"No!  no!     It  was — it  was — " 

"Dido?" 

"Not  Dido.  Oh!"  cried  Isabella,  in  a  tone  of 
anguish,  "it  was  my  mother." 


FURTHER  EVIDENCE.  183 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
FURTHER  EVIDENCE. 

Major  Jen  recoiled  from  the  young  girl  in  amaze- 
ment. 

"Your  mother,"  he  muttered,  hardly  believing 
the  evidence  of  his  own  senses.  "Your  mother 
stole  the  devil-stick?" 

"Yes;  but  she  did  not  know  what  she  was  doing!" 

Jen  frowned. 

"That  is  impossible!"  he  said,  positively.  "Quite 
impossible!" 

"No!  no!  Wait!  Listen!"  said  Isabella,  much 
agitated.  "I  told  you  falsehoods  before  to  shield 
my  mother.  Now  that  I  know  that  you  have  dis- 
covered so  much,  that  you  are  bent  on  punishing 
Dr.  Etwald,  I  must  tell  you  the  truth,  so  that  she 
may  not  be  dragged  down  to  ruin.  But  not  here — 
not  here:  my  mother  may  see  us — and  Dido,"  the 
girl  shuddered.  "Dido,  of  whom  I  am  afraid. 
Come  with  me,  major.     Quickly!" 

Without  glancing  toward  the  house  Isabella  ran 
down  a  secluded  path  which  led  through  a  kind  of 
shrubbery  to  the  flower-garden,  and  then  disap- 
peared into  a  light  cane  summer-house,  constructed 
in  the  Chinese  fashion,  and  which  was  overgrown 
with  greenery.     Major  Jen  followed  her  as  rapidly 


i84  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

as  his  more  mature  age  would  permit  him ;  and  as 
he  hastened,  he  felt  a  wild  thrill  of  delight  that  at 
last  he  was  about  to  hear  the  truth.  That  it  should 
be  told  to  him  by  so  unexpected  a  person  as  Isa- 
bella Dallas,  was  not  the  least  strange  part  of  this 
strange  affair. 

"Major,"  she  said,  when  somewhat  out  of  breath 
he  had  taken  his  seat  beside  her  in  the  summer- 
house,  "although  I  relate  what  inculpates  my 
mother,  it  is  to  save  her  that  I  do  so.  Both  she  and 
I  are  in  a  net  woven  by  Dido." 

"Ah!  poor  Maurice  always  mistrusted  that  ne- 
gress!" 

"He  was  right  to  do  so.  Oh,  you  do  not  know 
what  a  terrible  woman  she  is.  For  years  both  I 
and  my  mother  have  been  under  her  influence ;  and 
have  submitted  to  her  will.  Now,  I  see  her  in  her 
true  colors,  and  I  am  determined  to  speak  the 
truth.  Save  myself  and  my  mother,  major;  for  we 
are  innocent.  Dr.  Etwald  and  Dido  are  the  guilty 
persons." 

"They  killed  Maurice!" 

"Yes.     I  am  sure  of  it." 

"They  stole  the  body?" 

"I  can  swear  they  did,"  said  Isabella,  with  emo- 
tion. 

"Why  did  you  not  tell  me  of  this  before?"  asked 
the  major. 

"I  have  only  been  certain  of  these  things  since 
our  last  interview.     I  lied  to  you  then  because  Dido 


FURTHER  EVIDENCE.  185 

said  if  I  told  the  truth  she  would  accuse  my  mother 
of  the  murder." 

"I  see,"  said  Jen,  thoughtfully,  "and  I  can  under- 
stand their  motives.  Dido  wished  you  to  marry 
Etwald." 

"Yes;  and  it  was  to  force  my  mother  into  com- 
pliance with  that  desire  that  the  whole  of  these 
crimes  were  committed.     Dido — " 

"One  moment,  Miss  Dallas.  What  influence  has 
Etwald  over  the  negreSs?" 

Isabella  shuddered. 

"He  is  the  possessor  of  the  Voodoo  stone, "  she 
said  in  a  low  voice. 

"The  Voodoo  stone,"  echoed  Jen,  much  puzzled. 
"And  what  may  that  be?" 

"It  is  a  small  black  pebble  of  a  peculiar  shape," 
explained  the  girl,  "and  it  was  brought  from  Africa 
to  Barbadoes  over  a  hundred  years  ago.  The 
negroes  believe  that  a  spirit  dwells  in  this  stone,  and 
that  when  it  is  worshiped  the  indwelling  devil  can 
work  woe  to  those  against  whom  the  possessor  of  the 
stone  bears  malice.  You  can  have  no  idea  how  this 
talisman  is  venerated  by  all  the  blacks ;  they  will  go 
miles  to  look  on  it,  to  adore  it ;  they  would  burn  down 
a  city  to  possess  it ;  to  gain  it  they  would  murder  a 
hundred  human  beings.  Well,  Dr.  Etwald  was  in 
Barbadoes  some  years  ago,  and  he  gained  possession 
of  this  Voodoo  stone.  He  has  used  it  while  here  to 
intimidate  Dido.  While  he  holds  it  she  will  not 
dare  to  disobey  him,  and  all  this  plotting  and  assas- 


1 86  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

sination  designed  to  bring  about  my  marriage  with 
Dr.  Etwald,  has  been  designed  by  him,  and  carried 
out  by  Dido,  solely  on  account  of  his  ownership  of 
the  Voodoo  stone.  You  know  that  she  calls  him 
the  'great  master!'  Well — now  you  can  guess  the 
reason  for  her  service  worship  of  this  man." 

"Yes,"  assented  Jen,  turning  his  sharp  eyes  on 
Isabella,  "and  you — do  you  believe  in  this  Voodoo 
stone  also?" 

"No.  When  I  was  a  child  I  did,  and  I  fancy  that 
my  mother  also  had  some  belief  in  it.  Brought  up 
among  the  negroes  of  Barbadoes  both  she  and  I  im- 
bibed the  superstitions  of  the  black  race ;  but  now 
we  have  no  faith  in  such  follies.  For  my  part," 
added  the  girl,  anxiously,  "I  should  be  glad  to  get 
rid  of  Dido,  seeing  that  with  Dr.  Etwald  and  his 
malignant  influence  of  the  Voodoo  stone,  she  is 
dragging  us  toward  disgrace ;  but  my  mother  still 
clings  to  her  as  an  old  servant,  and  will  not  let  her 
go." 

"I  see.     And  about  the  theft  of  this  devil-stick?" 

"Oh,  on  the  night  it  was  stolen,  I  was  seated  on  the 
veranda  after  dinner,  and  I  saw  my  mother  come 
out  with  Dido.  They  did  not  know  I  was  there,  as 
I  sat  in  the  shade.  I  saw  Dido  speak  to  my  mother 
and  point  toward  your  house.  Then  she  waved  her 
hands  before  my  mother's  face,  whereupon  my 
mother  turned  and  walked  swiftly  past  where  I  was 
seated.  I  saw  her  face;  it  was  quite  white,  and 
her  eyes  were  open  and  glassy.     She — " 


FURTHER  EVIDENCE.  187 

"In  a  word,"  interrupted  Jen,  "this  black  witch 
had  hypnotized  Mrs.  Dallas." 

"Yes;  but  I  did  not  know  that  until  later  on. 
When  my  mother  disappeared  Dido  re-entered  the 
house.  At  once — terrified  by  my  mother's  action — 
I  ran  down  the  little  path  which  leads  to  the  gate 
and  followed  her  out  onto  the  road.  She  went  into 
your  grounds  by  the  postern  in  the  wall.  I  saw  her 
cross  the  lawn,  and  enter  the  smoking-room, 
wherein  a  lamp  was  burning.  When  she  came  out 
it  was  with  the  devil-stick  in  her  hand.  I  recog- 
nized it  by  the  golden  handle.  I  reached  home 
before  she  did,  and  again  hid  on  the  veranda. 
Dido  reappeared  as  my  mother  came  up  the  walk, 
and  took  the  devil-stick  from  her.  Then  she  led  her 
indoors." 

"And  what  did  you  do?"  asked  Jen,  much  inter- 
ested in  this  strange  history. 

"I  went  in  later  on,  and  found  that  my  mother 
had  gone  to  bed.  I  said  nothing  at  the  time  as  I 
was  afraid  of  Dido.  Afterward,  when  Maurice  was 
killed,  and  you  said  that  the  devil-stick  had  killed 
him,  I  went  to  Dido  and  accused  her  of  the  crime. 

She  was  fearfully  angry  and  warned  me  that  if  I 
said  a  word  about  the  theft  of  the  devil-stick  I  would 
be  in  danger  of  hanging  my  own  mother." 

"What!"  cried  Jen,  jumping  up,  "did  Dido  accuse 
your  mother  of  the  crime?" 

"To  me,  yes.  To  my  mother,  no.  Afraid  lest 
such  an  accusation  should  kill  my  mother,  who  is 


i88  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

not  strong  as  you  know,  I  said  nothing  to  her,  ot 
indeed  to  anyone.  I  told  a  lie  to  you  to  save  my 
mother;  what  else  could  I  do?  But  now  I  tell  you 
the  truth,  and  I  wish  you  to  protect  us  both  against 
the  evil  of  Dido  and  Dr.  Etwald. ' ' 

"You  believe  that  Dr.  Etwald  killed  Maurice?" 

"I  am  sure  of  it.  When  I  became  ill  through  the 
terror  of  the  secret  which  I  possessed.  Dido  prepared 
that  poison  under  the  pretense  of  curing  me,  but  I 
now  know  that  she  did  so  to  refill  the  devil-stick. 
She  then  sent  it  to  Etwald,  and  he  killed  Maurice. 
Also  he  stole  the  body  with  the  assistance  of 
Dido." 

"Why  should  this  pair  of  wretches  steal  the  body?" 

"I  know  no  more  than  you  do,"  said  Isabella,  with 
great  despondency.  "But  now.  Major  Jen,  you  can 
understand  my  not  speaking  the  truth  at  our  last 
interview." 

"Yes,  and  I  honor  you  for  it,"  said  Jen,  kissing 
her  hand.  "But  tell  me  one  thing.  Why  did  you 
make  that  midnight  visit?" 

"Well,  I  was  not  quite  myself,  major,  in  the  first 
place;  and  in  the  second  I  missed  Dido!" 

"On  that  night?"  asked  Jen,  eagerly. 

"Yes.  I  was  ill,  as  I  have  said,  and  my  mother 
was  watching  by  my  bedside.  Usually  it  is  Dido 
who  does  so.  I  asked  my  mother  about  Dido,  and 
she  said  that  Dido  had  asked  permission  to  go  out 
for  the  evening. ' ' 

"To  see  Dr.  Etwald,  I  suppose?" 


FURTHER  EVIDENCE.  189 

"No.  I  thought  so  at  first,  but  one  of  the  servants 
who  brought  me  a  cup  of  tea  late  at  night  told  me 
that  Dido  had  gone  to  your  house  to  offer  her  ser- 
vices in  laying  out  the  body  of  my  dear  Maurice. " 

"Oh!"  said  the  major,  suddenly  recollecting  what 
had  taken  place.  "I  remember  her  visit;  but  she 
gave  as  her  excuse  that  you  wanted  to  see  me. " 

"One  of  her  lies,"  said  Isabella,  vehemently.  "I 
did  not  know  she  had  gone  to  your  house  until  the 
servant  told  me.  Then  when  I  remembered  how 
the  devil-stick  had  been  stolen  I  was  afraid  lest  Dido 
should  be  contriving  further  mischief.  Although  it 
was  late  I  could  not  rest  in  my  bed.  I  tossed  and 
turned  with  my  brain  burning  with  the  fever.  I 
felt  that  I  must  learn  what  was  taking  place  at 
your  house.  My  mother  left  me  about  two  o'clock 
in  the  morning  quite  worn  out  with  her  watching. 
Then  I  rose,  put  on  a  dressing-gown,  and  escaped  by 
the  window.  I  reached  your  library  at  three  o'clock. 
You  know  the  rest. ' ' 

"Yes,"  assented  the  major,  with  a  nod,  "and  I 
know  that,  as  you  imagined.  Dido  was  up  to  some 
mischief.  She  stole  the  body  with  Etwald;  but 
why?  why?"  muttered  Jen,  in  perplexed  tones. 

"I  cannot  guess,"  said  Isabella,  for  the  second 
time.  "But  now  that  I  have  told  you  all,  major, 
what  do  you  intend  to  do?" 

"Return  to  my  house  and  see  Etwald!" 

"Is  he  there?" 

"I  expect  him  at  noon  along  with  Inspector  Arkel. 


I90  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

Then  I  may  force  the  truth  out  of  him.     Certainly  I 
shall  have  him  arrested  on  suspicion  of  murder." 

"And  Dido!" 

"I  shall  take  no  steps  concerning  her  at  present," 
said  Jen,  glancing  at  his  watch,  "especially  as  there 
is  no  fear  of  her  leaving  the  neighborhood. " 

"No!"  replied  Isabella,  interpreting  the  major's 
thought.  "While  the  Voodoo  stone  is  with  Dr. 
Etwald  she  will  not  leave  the  place  where  he  is 
staying." 

"In  that  case,  she  will  have  to  live  in  Deanminster 
jail;  for  there — -as  sure  as  I  am  a  living  man — 
Etwald  shall  find  himself  before  another  twelve 
hours  are  over  his  head.  And  now,  my  dear  young 
lady,"  added  Jen,  rising,  "I  must  leave  you,  to  keep 
my  appointment  with  the  scoundrel.  Do  not  speak 
of  our  conversation  to  anyone!" 

"You  can  depend  upon  my  silence,"  said  Isabella, 
who  held  out  her  hand. 

Major  Jen  shook  it  in  his  usual  kindly  manner,  and 
moved  a  step  toward  the  door  of  the  summer-house. 
All  at  once  he  paused  and  looked  back. 

"One  moment,  Miss  Dallas!"  he  said,  quickly. 
"Does  David  know  about  the  theft  of  the  devil- 
stick?  That  is,"  he  added  more  precisely,  "does  he 
know  that  your  mother  stole  it?" 

Isabella  considered. 

"I  cannot  be  quite  certain  if  he  does!"  she  said, 
after  a  pause,  "but  I  fancy  he  has  some  idea  of  it. 
When  he  has  seen  me  of  late  he  has  always  been  so 


FURTHER  EVIDENCE.  191 

nervous  and  silent.  At  our  last  meeting,  also,  he 
told  me  that  we  were  to  fear  nothing. ' ' 

"H'm!"  said  Jen,  reflectively.  "Undoubtedly  you 
are  right.  Miss  Dallas.  David  must  have  learned 
the  truth  in  some  way ;  but  I  cannot  imagine  how. 
Well,  good-by,  good-by.  I  shall  see  you  later  on 
when  we  have  this  scoundrel  under  lock   and  key." 

The  major  hurried  off,  leaving  Isabella  alone  in 
the  summer-house.  He  walked  on  slowly,  notwith- 
standing that  it  was  past  the  hour  he  had  appointed 
to  meet  Arkel  and  Etwald.  His  thoughts  were  busy 
with  what  Isabella  had  said  concerning  David's 
knowledge  of  the  trick. 

"Undoubtedly  he  believes  that  Mrs.  Dallas  killed 
Maurice,"  thought  Jen,  "and  that  is  why  he  refuses 
to  confess  to  me.  He  said  that  I  would  be  the  first 
to  blame  him  for  telling  all  he  knew,  and  as  he  is 
under  the  delusion  that  Mrs.  Dallas  is  guilty,  I 
understand  now  the  reason  of  his  silence.  Also  he 
said  that  he  would  never  marry  Isabella;  which 
shows  that  he  is  afraid  of  becoming  the  husband  of 
a  woman  whose  mother  has  committed  a  crime. 
Poor  boy,  how  he  must  suffer ;  and  after  all  I  must 
say  that  I  approve  of  his  honorable  silence.  But!" 
added  the  major  to  himself,  "when  he  knows  that 
Mrs.  Dallas  is  innocent  and  that  Etwald  is  guilty,  he 
will  then  be  able  to  marry  Isabella!" 

On  consideraticui  Jen  thought  it  would  be  best  to 
say  nothing  definite  to  David  about  his  discovery.  If 
the  young  man,  from  a  feeling  of  honor  toward  an 


192  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

unhappy  woman,  kept  silent,  the  major  was  the  last 
person  in  the  world  to  tempt  him  to  break  it.  Jen 
decided  to  merely  hint  to  David  that  he  knew  the 
truth,  and  let  the  arrest  of  Etwald  tell  its  own  tale, 
and  unseal  the  lad's  lips,  by  showing  that  Mrs.  Dal- 
las was  innocent.  As  Jen  came  to  this  conclusion, 
he  entered  his  own  gates,  and  rather  to  his  surprise, 
he  saw  David,  considerably  agitated,  advancing  to 
meet  him. 

"Inspector  Arkel  and  Dr.  Etwald  are  waiting  for 
you  in  the  library, ' '  said  Sarby,  rapidly. 

"I  know  it.     I  sent  for  them." 

"You  sent  for  them?" 

"Well,  why  not?  I  wish  the  first  to  arrest  the 
second. " 

"Arrest  Dr.  Etwald!     On  what  grounds?" 

"On  the  grounds  of  having  murdered  Maurice," 
said  Jen,  coldly.  "Yes,  you  may  look  astonished, 
David,  but  it  is  the  truth.  Without  your  assistance 
I  have  discovered  that  Etwald  is  guilty.  Also," 
added  the  major,  in  a  kindly  tone,  "I  know  the  rea- 
son of  your  silence." 

"Of  ray  silence?"  echoed  David.  "You  knovv  the 
reason?" 

"Yes,  and  I  honor  you  for  it." 

"Who — who — told  you?"  stammered  the  yoimg 
man,  as  pale  as  death. 

"Miss  Dallas." 

"Isabella!     My  God!"     David  looked  terrified. 


A  STRANGE  REQUEST.  193 


CHAPTER  XX. 
A  STRANGE  REQUEST. 

Before  Jen  had  time  to  inquire  the  meaning  of 
David's  strange  exclamation,  the  young  man  had 
turned  on  his  heel  and  was  walking  rapidly  back  to 
the  house.  Surprised  by  this  behavior,  and  suspi- 
cious of  its  reason,  the  major  called  out  to  him  to 
stop ;  but  without  taking  any  notice  the  young  man 
increased  his  pace,  and  was  soon  lost  to  sight.  Still 
marveling,  Jen  went  after  him,  and  on  entering  the 
library  found  that  only  Arkel  was  present. 

"Where  is  Dr.  Etwald?"  demanded  the  major, 
anxiously. 

"He  went  upstairs  a  few  minutes  ago  to  see  your 
servant, "  replied  the  inspector,  rising. 

"Alone,  Mr.  Arkel?" 

"Why  no,  major.     Mr.  Sarby  was  with  him." 

Jen  started.  Evidently  David  had  returned  before 
him  in  order  to  see  Etwald,  and  to  gain  private 
speech  with  the  doctor,  had  conducted  him  to  Jag- 
gard's  sick-room.  For  the  moment  Jen — still  sus- 
picious of  Sarby' s  behavior — had  it  in  his  mind  to 
follow;  but  a  few  minutes  of  reflection  convinced 
him  that  this  was  unnecessary.  David  did  not  know 
all  the  conversation  which  had  taken  place  between 
himself  and  Isabella,  therefore  he  could  inform 
13 


194  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

Etwald  of  nothing  new.  But,  indeed,  the  major 
wondered  why  David  wished  to  speak  privately  with 
the  doctor.  It  looked,  to  his  mind,  as  though  the 
two  men  were  in  league. 

"I'll  find  out  what  it  all  means  after  I  have  had 
speech  with  Arkel,"  said  Jen  to  himself.  "The 
doctor  cannot  escape  me,  and  if  David  has  an  under- 
standing with  him,  I'll  force  them  both  to  confess. 
There  can  be  no  harm  in  leaving  them  together  for 
a  few  minutes. ' ' 

In  this  Jen  was  wrong,  but,  as  he  was  only  an 
amateur  detective,  he  cannof  be  blamed  very 
severely  for  his  negligence  at  this  particular  moment. 
He  acted — as  he  thought — for  the  best,  and  there- 
fore hastened  to  explain  to  Arkel  the  position  of 
aifairs  before  the  return  of  Dr.  Etwald.  Afterward, 
when  the  matter  of  the  accusation  and  arrest  were 
settled,  he  intended  to  have  speech  with  David,  and 
insist  upon  an  explanation  of  the  young  man's  mys- 
terious behavior.  Thus  did  the  situation  present 
itself  to  his  inexperienced  eyes. 

"Well,  never  mind  Dr.  Etwald  just  now,"  he  said 
aloud,  pointing  to  a  chair.  "He  has  his  duties  to 
perform,  and  I  have  mine.  Sit  down,  Mr.  Arkel.  I 
suppose  you  wonder  why  I  have  sent  for  you?" 

"Well;  no,  major.  I  presume  it  is  in  connection 
with  the  case." 

' '  You  are  right.  I  wish  to  know  if  you  have  dis- 
covered anything  new. " 


A  STRANGE  REQUEST.  195 

"Yes.  Your  messenger,  Battersea,  was  wander- 
ing about  your  grounds  on  that  night. ' ' 

*' Battersea!"  cried  Jen,  thunderstruck.  "Did  he 
see  the  body  carried  off?" 

"He  did  not  see  it  taken  out  of  the  house," 
explained  Arkel,  referring  to  some  notes  which  he 
held  in  his  hand,  "but  he  saw  it  put  into  the  car- 
riage. " 

"A  carriage?" 

"Yes,  which  was  waiting  in  the  winding  lane  at 
the  foot  of  your  grounds.  Two  people  carried  the 
body  between  them — a  man  and  a  woman — but  Bat- 
tersea cannot  give  me  their  names. ' ' 

"I  can,  however,  said  Jen,  grimly.  "Oh,  it  is  just 
as  I  thought." 

"What  are  the  names,  major?"  asked  Arkel, 
anxiously. 

"I'll  give  you  the  names  later  on,  Mr.  Inspector. 
In  the  meantime,  be  good  enough  to  conclude  your 
report  of  Battersea 's  confession.  It  interests  me 
deeply." 

"I  thought  it  would,"  replied  Arkel,  with  a  look 
of  satisfaction.  "Well,  Battersea  wondered  at  the 
body  being  put  into  the  carriage — ' ' 

"Did  he  know  that  it  was  Alymer's  corpse?" 
interrupted  Jen,  sharply. 

"He  guessed  as  much  from  the  circumstance  that 
the  body  was  carried  through  your  grounds  to  the 
lane  where  the  carriage  was  waiting.  You  know, 
major,  that  this  tramp  is  rather  stupid,  and  it  is  not 


196  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

an  easy  thing  for  him  to  put  two  and. two  together." 

"On  this  occasion,  however,  he  discovered  that 
they  made  four,"  replied  the  major,  dryly.  "Well, 
the  man  and  the  woman  put  the  body  into  the  car- 
riage— a  closed  carriage,  I  suppose?" 

*'Yes,"  assented  Arkel,  with  a  nod,  "a  brough- 
am." 

"A  doctor's  brougham?" 

"What,"  cried  the  inspector,  with  a  look  of  sur- 
prise, "has  the  scamp  told  you?" 

"He  has  told  me  nothing.     Please  go  on." 

"Well,"  said  Arkel,  making  his  invariable  begin- 
ning, "when  the  body  was  placed  in  the  carriage 
and  the  door  closed,  the  woman  went  away. ' ' 

"In  what  direction?" 

"She  returned  through  your  grounds,  but  where 
she  went  Battersea  does  not  know." 

"I  do,  however,"  muttered  Jen,  divining  that  Dido 
had  taken  the  usual  route  back  to  "The  Wigwam." 

"And  the  man?" 

"He  mounted  the  carriage-box  and  drove  off.  It 
appears  that  there  was  no  coachman. ' ' 

"I  don't  wonder  at  that,"  rejoined  the  major. 
"This  precious  pair  were  afraid  to  trust  their  infer- 
nal secret  to  a  third  party.  No  doubt  the  horse, 
being  quiet,  was  left  to  stand  in  the  deep  shadow  of 
the  lane,  while  the  robbers  stole  the  corpse.  How- 
ever, I  understand.  The  woman  went  away,  the 
man  mounted  the  box,  and  I  suppose,  drove  off 
with  the  corpse. ' ' 


A  STRANGE  REQUEST.  197 

"Also  with  Battersea, "  added  Arkel,  with  a  sig- 
nificant smile.  "It  seems  that  the  tramp  wished  to 
see  the  end  of  this  singular  adventure,  or,  no  doubt, 
he  wished  to  make  money  out  of  it." 

"By  blackmailing?  I  see.  I  suppose  he  hung  on 
behind." 

"Yes;  like  a  street  arab.  He  was  one,  once,  you 
know,  major,  and  has  not  forgotten  his  early  habits. 
Well,  he  was  driven  with  the  carriage  to  Dean- 
minster.  ' ' 

"Quite  so,  and  into  that  gloomy  courtyard  which 
surrounds  the  house  of  Dr.  Etwald,"  added  Major 
Jen,  with  a  satisfied  smile,  "Battersea  saw  the 
doctor  take  the  body  out  of  the  carriage  and  carry 
it  into  the  house.  Then,  on  his  return — Etwald's  I 
mean — he  unharnessed  the  horse  and  put  it  into  the 
stable;  also  the  carriage  into  the  coach-house.  Is 
that  not  so,  Mr.  Arkel?" 

"Battersea  told  you,"  stammered  Arkel,  amazed 
at  his  insight. 

"I  assure  you  he  told  me  nothing.  But  I  am  as 
clever  as  Battersea,  and  can  put  two  and  two 
together.  Next  day  Battersea  went  to  Etwald,  did 
he  not,  and  tried  to  blackmail  him,  but  this  clever 
doctor  compelled  him  to  keep  silent.  " 

"It's  all  quite  true,"  assented  the  inspector, 
thunderstruck;  "though  how  you  guessed  it  all  I 
cannot  say.  But,  as  you  know  so  much,  perhaps 
you  can  tell  me  one  thing  more,  which  bothers  me 


19^  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

not  a  little.  How  did  Dr.  Etwald  compel  Battersea 
to  keep  silence?" 

"Very  easily,"  said  Jen,  with  a  shrug.  "Batter- 
sea  is  half  negro.  The  black  race  adore  the  Voodoo 
stone,  of  which  Dr.  Etwald  is  the  possessor.  Etwald 
simply  threatened  Battersea  with  the  vengeance  of 
the  Voodoo  stone  if  he  spoke.  Therefore,  he  held 
his  tongue,  and  was  forced  to  confess  all  this  only  by 
your  threatening  to  have  him  arrested  as  the  mur- 
derer of  Mr.  Alymer. 

"I  did  threaten  him;  but  how  you  know — '* 

"I  know  a  great  many  things,  Mr.  Inspector.  For 
instance,  I  know  that  the  woman  who  assisted  Dr. 
Etwald  to  steal  the  body  is  Dido,  the  negress  of 
Mrs.  Dallas ;  also  that  Dr.  Etwald  is  a  murderer  as 
well  as  a  thief." 

"Heavens !  If  I  had  only  known  that  I  would  have 
had  the  warrant  altered. ' ' 

"What!"  cried  Jen,  with  an  expression  of  fero- 
cious joy  lighting  up  his  face,  "you  have  a  warrant 
for  the  arrest  of  Etwald?" 

"Yes,  but  on  the  charge  of  stealing  the  body  only. 
I  took  it  out  after  hearing  the  evidence  of  the  tramp, 
Battersea. ' ' 

"Very  good.  Then  you  can  take  out  a  warrant 
for  his  arrest  as  a  murderer,  after  hearing  my  evi- 
dence. ' ' 

"Can  you  prove  him  guilty?" 

Jen  rose  to  his  feet  and  stretched  out  one  hand 
toward  Arkel. 


A  STRANGE  REQUEST.  199 

"I  swear,  on  my  sacred  honor,  that  Maurice  Aly- 
mer  was  killed  by  Max  Etwald!" 

At  this  moment  the  door  of  the  library  opened 
slowly,  and  Dr.  Etwald,  calm  and  composed, 
appeared  on  the  threshold.  Behind  him,  over  his 
shoulder,  peered  the  pale  countenance  of  David. 
From  the- ironical  look  on  the  doctor's  face  it  would 
appear  that  he  had  overheard  the  accusation  of  the 
major,  and  was  prepared  to  treat  it  with  contempt. 
That  such  was  the  case  appeared  by  the  first  words 
which  issued  from  his  mouth  as  he  faced  his 
accuser. 

' '  I  hear  the  name  of  Max  Etwald  coupled  with  the 
crime  of  murder.  Is  this  the  way  you  treat  your 
guests,  major?" 

"You  are  not  my  guest,"  retorted  Jen,  furiously. 

"No;  rather  your  victim,  seeing  that  you  have 
lured  me  into  a  trap.  It  was  not  to  see  Jaggard 
that  you  asked  me  here ;  but  rather  to  force  me — if 
you  can — into  confessing  that  I  am  guilty  of  a  triple 
crime." 

"You  make  one  slight  mistake,  sir,"  said  Jen, 
coldly.     "I  accuse  you  of  two  crimes,  not  of  three.  " 

"Ah,  you  are  lenient,"  replied  Etwald,  a  shade  of 
surprise  passing  over  his  features,  a  surprise  which 
was  reflected  in  the  agitated  face  of  David  Sarby. 

"Well,  sir,  let  me  hear  of  what  I  am  accused.  " 

With  the  utmost  coolness  he  entered  the  room  and 
sat  down  in  a  chair  near  Arkel.  The  inspector,  with 
his  hand  in  his  breast-pocket,  fingered  the  warrant, 


200  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

but  did  not  deem  it  wise  to  execute  it  until  he  had 
heard  what  proof  the  major  possessed  against  Etwald 
for  the  murder  of  Maurice  Alymer.  David  sat  down 
near  the  door,  and  followed  every  movement  of  the 
scene  which  ensued  with  keen  eyes.  Thus,  three  of 
the  occupants  of  the  room  were  seated — Sarby, 
Arkel,  and  Etwald.  Only  one  man  stood  up — 
Major  Jen — and  he  stood  as  the  accuser. 

' '  Dr.  Etwald, ' '  said  the  major,  with  great  calmness 
and  deliberation,  "you  are  a  clever  and  ambitious 
man,  who  wishes  to  make  his  way  in  the  world,  but 
has  hitherto  failed  to  do  so  for  lack  of  money.  To 
procure  money  for  your  experiments  in  chemistry, 
you  would  do  anything — even  marry  a  rich  woman!" 

"Or  murder  the  man  formerly  engaged  to  her," 
retorted  Etwald,  with  a  pale  smile.  "Go  on.  Major 
Jen,  I  see  the  mark  you  are  aiming  at. ' ' 

"You  found  this  rich  match  here,"  resumed  Jen, 
without  noticing  the  interruption,  "in  the  person  of 
Miss  Dallas,  already  engaged  to  the  late  Mr. 
Alymer. " 

"And  also  loved  by  Mr.  Sarby,"  said  the  doctor, 
coolly. 

"We  will  come  to  that  later  on,  if  you  please," 
said  the  maior,  making  a  gesture  to  David  to  be 
silent.  "You  loved  her  and  wanted  your  rival,  Mr. 
Alymer,  out  of  the  way.  To  do  so  you  had  my 
devil-stick  stolen." 

"Ho,  ho;  and  by  whom?" 

"By  Mrs.  Dallas!" 


A  STRANGE  REQUEST.  201 

"Mrs.  Dallas?"  cried  David,  starting  from  his 
seat.     "Did  she  steal  the  devil-stick?" 

"It  would  seem  so  from  this  veracious  history  the 
ma'jor  is  telling  us,  said  Etwald,  with  irony. 

"Mrs.  Dallas  stole  the  devil-stick,"  resumed  Jen, 
imperturbably,  "and  gave  it  to  Dido,  who,  by  your 
directions,  filled  it  with  fresh  poison.  Dido  gave 
the  newly-prepared  weapon  of  death  to  you,  and 
with  it  you  killed  my  poor  boy  at  the  very  gates  of 
the  girl  he  loved." 

"Really!"  said  Etwald,  with  pointed  satire. 
"Was  I  as  cruel  as  that!" 

"Afterward  you  stole  the  body  of  the  man  you 
murdered.  Dido  helped  you  to  do  so,  and  drugged 
my  servant,  Jaggard,  with  the  perfume  of  the  devil- 
stick  poison,  in  order  that  the  theft  might  be  carried 
out  with  safety." 

"It  would  seem  that  Dido  has  a  great  deal  to  do 
with  these  matters,"  said  Etwald,  looking  up  to  the 
roof. 

"She  has  everything  to  do  with  them.  She  will 
be  brought  up  against  you  as  a  witness. ' ' 

"Indeed!  Then  it  appears  that  I  am  to  be 
arrested. ' ' 

"I  can  answer  that,"  broke  in  Arkel,  amazed 
at  the  self-possession  of  the  man.  "I  have  here  a 
warrant  to  arrest  you  for  stealing  the  body  of 
Maurice  Alymer." 

Etwald  glanced  over  the  warrant  and  smiled, 

"How  can  you  prove  that  I  did  so?"  he  demanded. 


202  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

"By  the  evidence  of  the  tramp  Battersea. " 

"Battersea!"  repeated  the  doctor,  and  for  the  first 
time  he  frowned. 

"Yes.  He  saw  you  place  the  body  in  your 
brougham,  with  the  assistance  of  Dido.  He  followed 
you  to  Deanminster,  and  saw  you  take  the  body  into 
your  house." 

"Really!  But  all  this  evidence  is  circumstantial. 
Have  you  searched  my  house?" 

"We  intend  doing  so." 

"I  am  afraid  you  will  have  your  trouble  for  noth- 
ing," rejoined  Etwald,  coolly.  "Moreover,  you 
can't  arrest  me  without  actual  proof." 

' '  I  can  arrest  you  on  suspicion, ' '  said  Arkel,  rising 
with  his  warrant,  "and  I  arrest  you  now  in  the 
Queen's  name." 

"On  what  charge?" 

"On  the  charge  of  stealing  the  body  of  Maurice 
Alymer. ' ' 

"Oh,  then,"  said  Etwald,  turning  toward  Jen,  "I 
am  not  to  be  accused  of  the  murder." 

"Later  on,  my  friend  Cain,"  said  the  major, 
grimly.  "You  will  have  quite  enough  to  do  to  save 
your  neck  from  the  halter. ' ' 

"I  am  afraid  so,  indeed,  major,  therefore  I  must 
have  assistance.  There  is  nothing  like  being 
provided  in  time  with  counsel  for  the  defense; 
therefore,  I  must  ask  Mr.  David  Sarby  to  defend  me 
from  these  absurd  charges." 


A  STRANGE  REQUEST.  203 

*'I!"  cried  David,  starting  up  with  pale  cheeks. 
"I  defend  you!" 

"Assuredly,"  replied  Etwald,  fixing  a  piercing 
glance  on  the  young  man.     "Do  you  refuse?" 

"Of  course  he  does,"  cried  Jen,  wrathfuUy. 

David  raised  his  head  and  looked  at  the  major,  at 
the  doctor,  at  the  inspector. 

"No,"  he  said  in  a  firm  voice  to  all  three.  "I 
accept.     I  shall  defend  Max  Etwald. ' ' 


204  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

CHAPTER   XXI. 
A  NINE  DAYS'  WONDER. 

Great  was  the  astonishment  throughout  the 
neighborhood  when  it  became  known  that  Dr. 
Etwald,  the  clever  physician  of  Deanminster,  had 
been  arrested  on  a  double  charge  of  murder  and 
theft  of  a  dead  body.  Those  who  did  not  like  him 
— and  they  were  the  majority — rejoiced  openly  that 
the  assassin  of  Maurice  Alymer  had  been  found  in 
Etwald's  person;  but  there  were  some  that  regretted 
that  so  brilliant  a  man  should  be  consigned  to  a 
felon's  cell,  and — possibly  in  the  hereafter — to  a 
felon's  doom.  But  whatever  opinions,  for  or 
against  the  prisoner,  were  held  by  the  good  people 
of  Deanminster  and  the  surrounding  neighborhood, 
there  was  no  doubt  of  one  thing:  The  trial  of  Max 
Etwald  at  the  assizes  would  be  the  great  sensation 
of  the  year. 

Major  Jen  worked  hard  to  procure  evidence  against 
the  prisoner,  and  David  Sarby  worked  just  as  hard 
to  obtain  materials  for  the  defense.  The  attitude 
taken  up  by  the  young  barrister  astonished  every- 
body and  was  universally  condemned.  That  he — 
who  might  almost  be  called  the  brother  of  the  dead 
man — should  defend  the  assassin  of  such  brother 
was  almost  incredible  of  belief.  People  were 
astonished  and  angered  by  the  very  idea,  and  when 


A  NINE  DAYS'  WONDER.  205 

that  idea  became  known  to  be  an  actual  fact  the 
conduct  of  David  was  disapproved  of  on  every  side. 
Only  one  man  said  nothing,  and  that  man  was  the 
very  person  who  had  the  best  right  to  speak.  While 
all  talked,  Major  Jen  remained  silent.  His  reticence 
on  the  siibject  caused  almost  as  much  scandal  as 
David's  inexplicable  conduct. 

Yet  Jen  knew  what  he  was  about,  and  he  was 
acting  merely  in  accordance  with  an  agreement  he 
had  made  with  Sarby.  After  that  memorable 
interview  in  the  library,  when  Etwald  was  accused 
and  arrested,  Arkel  took  away  his  prisoner  in  custody 
by  virtue  of  the  warrant,  and  left  Major  Jen  alone 
with  the  counsel  for  the  defense.  The  assassin — 
so-called — and  Inspector  Arkel  left  the  room ;  they 
left  the  house.  When  the  sound  of  Etwald's 
carriage — for  he  went  to  Deanminster  jail  in  his  own 
brougham — had  died  away  in  the  distance,  Jen,  who 
had  hitherto  kept  silence,  raised  his  head  and  looked 
at  David. 

"Well,  sir!"  he  said  in  an  icy  tone  to  his  adopted 
son,  "I  am  waiting  for  you  to  explain  this  very 
extraordinary  conduct." 

David  replied  in  equally  as  cold  a  manner, 
"Major  Jen,  I  have  no  explanation  to  give  you." 
"What!"  cried   his   guardian,  rising.     "Do   you 
dare  to  sit  there  and  tell  me  that  you  are  a  traitor, 
a  coward,  and  an  ungrateful  man?" 

"A  traitor?"  echoed  David,  with  a  flush  rising  in 
his  pale  cheeks. 


2o6  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

"Yes,  sir.  A  traitor  to  your  foster-brother,  who 
was  your  rival.  It  is  because  Maurice  loved  the 
woman  who  hates  you  that  you  act  the  unworthy 
part  of  defending-  his  murderer." 

"Very  good,  major;  I  understand  why  I  am  a 
traitor.     But  a  coward?" 

"You  are  a  coward  in  submitting  yourself  to  the 
influence  of  this  base  assassin,"  cried  Jen,  enraged 
by  the  calmness  of  the  young  man.  "And  as  an 
ungrateful  man — do  you  want  an  explanation  of 
that  term? — you  whom  I  have  loved  and  brought  up 
as  my  own  son?" 

"No.  I  can  understand  your  anger  from  your 
point  of  view." 

"My  point  of  view!  My  point  of  view!"  raged 
Jen,  stamping.  "From  the  point  of  view  of  the 
world,  sir!  What  will  everyone  say  when  they 
learn  that  you  intend  to  defend  Etwald?" 

"They  will  say  almost  as  cruel  things  as  you  have 
said,"  returned  David,  still  composed.  "But  I  do 
not  care  for  the  opinion  of  the  public.  I  act 
according  to  the  dictates  of  my  own  conscience." 

Jen  drew  back  and  stared  at  the  young  man  in 
angry  surprise. 

"Your  own  conscience!"  he  repeated,  in  disdain. 
"How  can  you  talk  in  that  manner?  What  excuse 
can  you — " 

"I  have  an  excellent  excuse,"  interrupted  David, 
rising. 

"What  is  it,  if  I  may  be  so  bold  as  to  ask?" 


A  NINE  DAYS'  WONDER.  207 

"I  refuse  to  tell  you — at  present.  " 

"Indeed!  And  am  I  ever  to  learn  the  reason  of 
your  extraordinary  behavior?" 

David  considered. 

"Yes,  major,"  said  he  at  length.  "You  shall 
learn  my  reason — at  the  trial. ' ' 

"At  the  trial?" 

' '  I  shall  explain  it  when  I  make  my  speech  for  the 
defense. ' ' 

"What  do  you  mean?"  cried  Jen,  his  curiosity  getting 
the  better  of  his  anger.  "Is  it  possible  that  you 
believe  in  the  innocence  of  this  man?" 

"As  counsel  for  the  defense  you  can  hardly  expect 
me  to  answer  that. ' ' 

"As  your  adopted  father,  I  demand  an  answer." 

"You  shall  have  it,  sir — at  the  trial." 

The  obstinacy  and  marvelous  composure  of  the 
young  man  were  not  without  their  due  effect  on 
Major  Jen.  He  drew  back,  and  after  a  few  moments' 
consideration,  he  spoke  in  all  seriousness. 

"David,"  said  he,  quietly,  "there  is  something 
very  extraordinary  in  your  behavior,  and  you  refuse 
to  give  me  your  reasons  therefor.  If  I  wait  until 
the  trial,  will  you  explain?" 

"Yes.  I  have  already  told  you  so.  In  my  speech 
for  the  defense  you  will  be  fully  satisfied  that  I  have 
good  cause  to  act  as  I  am  doing." 

"Very  good,"  said  Jen,  calmly.  "Then  I  shall 
say  nothing  to  any  one  about  your  very  curious 
behavior.     I  shall  work  hard  to  secure  the  condem- 


2o8  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

nation  of  this  scoundrel.  You  can  do  your  best  to 
save  him.  But  against  you,  or  for  you,  I  shall  not 
open  my  mouth.  At  the  trial  I  shall  expect  an 
explanation." 

"You  shall  have  it." 

"But,"  added  Jen,  raising  his  head,  "as  until  that 
explanation  we  are  enemies — although  not  openly  so 
— I  shall  require  you  to  leave  my  house. " 

"I  expected  that  you  would  do  so,"  rejoined 
David,  bowing  his  head.  "Indeed,  you  can  act  in 
no  other  way.  To-day  I  shall  take  lodgings  in 
Deanminster  and  wait  for  the  trial.  I  shall  defend 
Etwald  to  the  best  of  my  ability,  and  then  you  can 
decide  whether  I  am  fit  to  re-enter  this  house." 

"I  can't  understand  you,  sir,"  said  Jen,  with  a 
sigh.  "Whatever  your  reasons  may  be,  I  feel  sure 
that  I  shall  not  approve  of  them." 

"You  approved  of  my  reasons  before,  major. 
You  shall  approve  of  them  again.  In  the  meantime, 
until  the  trial,  let  us  remain  strangers." 

He  bowed,  and  without  offering  his  hand — which 
it  is  very  probable  Major  Jen  would  have  refused  to 
take — ^he  left  the  room.  When  the  door  closed  the 
older  man  sank  into  a  chair  and  passed  his  hand 
across  a  brow  moist  with  perspiration. 

"There  can  be  only  one  explanation,"  he  mut- 
tered.    "David  is  mad. " 

The  result  of  this  conversation  was  that  David 
took  up  his  residence  in  Deanminster  near  the  jail, 
and  saw  Etwald  frequently  about  his  defense.     The 


A  NINE  DAYS'  WONDER.  209 

doctor  assured  him  that  he  possessed  sufficient  power 
over  Dido,  by  reason  of  owning  the  Voodoo  stone, 
to  prevent  her  from  becoming  a  witness  against  him. 
Sarby  was  satisfied  that  if  Dido  did  not  appear  to 
give  evidence  the  case  for  the  prosecution  would  fall 
through.  She  was  the  only  witness  of  whom  the 
barrister  and  the  prisoner  had  any  fear. 

On  his  part,  Major  Jen,  together  with  Arkel,  built 
up  a  strong  case  against  the  man  whom  they  fully 
believed  to  be  the  culprit.  Search  had  been  made  in 
Etwald's  house,  but  no  traces  of  the  dead  body 
could  be  found.  Its  disappearance  was  almost  as 
profound  a  mystery  as  the  reason  which  had  induced 
Etwald  to  steal  it.  The  reasons  for  the  theft  of  the 
devil-stick,  for  the  murder  of  Maurice,  were  plain 
enough ;  but  what  had  induced  the  doctor  to  make 
away  with  the  corpse  no  one  could  discover. 
Etwald  himself,  even  to  his  counsel,  was  silent  on 
the  subject. 

Arkel  had  sought  out  as  witnesses  against  Etwald 
seven  persons.  First,  Mrs.  Dallas,  who  was  to  prove 
that  she  was  hypnotized  frequently  by  Dido.  Second, 
Isabella,  who  was  to  depose  that  before  the  murder 
her  mother  had  been  sent  by  Dido  to  "Ashantee"  to 
steal  the  devil-stick,  while  under  the  influence  of 
hypnotism.  Third,  Battersea,  who  was  to  give 
evidence  that  he  had  found  the  devil-stick  within  the 
grounds  of  Mrs.  Dallas.  Fourth,  Lady  Meg,  who 
was  to  prove  the  offer  of  Battersea  to  sell  her  the 
stick.  Fifth,  Major  Jen,  who  could  explain  the 
14 


2IO  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

eng-agement  of  the  dead  man  to  Miss  Dallas  and  the 
rivalry  of  his  assassin.  Sixth,  Jaggard,  whose 
evidence  would  tend  to  show  that  Dido  had  drugged 
him  for  the  purpose  of  stealing  the  body.  And 
seventh,  the  most  important  witness  of  all.  Dido, 
who  was  to  depose  to  the  manufacture  of  the  poison, 
the  refilling  of  the  devil-stick,  and  the  giving  of  it  to 
Dr.  Etwald,  so  that  he  might  perpetrate  the  crime. 
With  these  seven  witnesses  Jen  did  not  see  how 
Etwald  could  escape  the  gallows. 

"Are  you  certain  that  all  these  people  will  speak 
out?"  asked  the  major  of  Arkel  when  the  list  was 
submitted  to  him. 

"I  am  certain  of  all  save  one,"  replied  Arkel,  in 
a  dissatisfied  tone,  "and  the  worst  of  it  is  that  Dido 
is  the  one." 

"Does  she  refuse  to  give  evidence  against  Etwald?" 

"I  should  think  so.  Simply  because  he  is  the 
holder  of  the  Voodoo  stone." 

"Can  we  force  her  by  threats  to  give  evidence?" 
said  Jen,  angrily. 

"I  don't  think  so;  it  wouldn't  be  legal,"  answered 
Arkel.  "The  only  chance  of  getting  the  negress  to 
confess  to  the  whole  truth  is  for  either  you  or  I  t</ 
gain  possession  of  that  stone." 

"Where  is  it?" 

' '  Etwald  carries  it  on  his  watch  chain.  I  saw  him 
the  other  day  in  prison  and  he  showed  it  to  me.  A 
common  little  black  stone  it  is,  but  Dido  would  till 
him  with  pleasure  to  get  it." 


A  NINE  DAYS'  WONDER.  211 

"Kill  Etwald!"  ejaculated  Jen.  Then,  after  a 
pause,  he  added:  "I  believe  you  are  right,  Arkel, 
for  it  is  not  the  man  himself  she  cares  about,  but 
the  stone.  However.  Ill  see  Isabella  and  make  her 
persuade  Dido  to  speak  against  Etwald." 

The  major  went  at  once  to  "The  Wigwam,"  but, 
notwithstanding  all  his  eloquence,  in  spite  of  the 
tears  and  implorings  of  Isabella,  the  negress 
positively  declined  to  say  a  word  against  the  Great 
Master. 

"While  dat  big  man  hab  de  Voodoo  stone  I  do 
notin' — notin',  "  she  said.  And  from  this  obstinate 
position  they  all  failed  to  move  her. 

When  Major  Jen  departed  both  Isabella  and  her 
mother  were  in  despair.  Failing  the  proving  of  the 
crime  against  Etwald,  accusations  might  be  made 
against  Mrs.  Dallas.  And  this  result  could  be 
brought  about  by  Dido,  did  she  choose;  but  the 
spell  of  the  Voodoo  stone  was  on  her,  and  she 
refused  to  say  anything  likely  to  inculpate  its  master. 

"Why  don't  you  get  the  Voodoo  stone  yourself,  if 
you  adore  it  so  much?"  cried  Mrs.  Dallas,  exasper- 
ated by  this  obstinacy. 

Dido  opened  and  shut  her  hand  convulsively. 

"Ah,  if  I  hab  dat  Voodoo  stone  I  be  great;  great 
— de  queen  ob  de  debbles.     But  he  no  let  it  go." 

"Go  and  see  Dr.  Etwald  and  tell  him  you  will 
give  evidence  against  him  unless  he  gives  you  the 
stone. " 

This  suggestion  came  from  Isabella,  but  of  it  Dido 


212  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

took  no  notice.  Without  a  word  to  mother  or 
daughter,  who  were  both  in  tears,  she  left  the  room. 
In  the  afternoon  she  was  nowhere  to  be  found,  and 
both  Mrs.  Dallas  and  Isabella  came  to  the  conclu- 
sion that  she  had  fled  to  avoid  being  forced  into 
giving  incriminating  evidence.  They  fell  into 
one  another's  arms  and  were  beside  themselves  with 
terror.  All  the  evil  done  by  Dido  and  Etwald 
seemed  likely  to  fall  upon  their  innocent  heads. 

"Still  there  is  hope,"  said  Isabella,  recognizing 
the  occasion  for  prompt  action.  "We  shall  speak  to 
Major  Jen  and  ask  him  to  send  the  police  after  this 
wretched  woman. " 

This  opinion  was  at  once  acted  upon,  and  a  mes- 
senger was  sent  to  "Ashantee,"  but  Major  Jen  was 
from  home,  and  it  was  not  until  six  o'clock  that  he 
presented  himself  at  "The  Wigwam"  and  heard  the 
story  of  Dido's  flight. 

"But  she  can't  be  very  far  away,"  said  Jen, 
hopefully.  "I  saw  her  in  Deanminster,  and  thought 
she  had  gone  there  with  a  message  from  you." 

"No,  no,"  cried  Mrs.  Dallas,  wringing  her  hands. 
"She  will  catch  the  train  there  and  go  to  London. 
Oh,  why  didn't  you  stop  her?" 

"I  wish  I  had  known,"  said  Jen,  rather  dismayed 
to  find  his  fine  case  against  Etwald  breaking  down. 
"But  even  if  we  had  forced  her  into  court  she 
would  not  have  given  evidence  against  the  holder 
of  the  Voodoo  stone. ' ' 

"Dat  so?"  said  a  hoarse  voice  at  the  door. 


A  NINE  DAYS'  WONDER.  213 

The  three  people  turned  and  saw  Dido,  with  an 

expression  of  triumph  on  her  dark  face,  enter  the 

room. 

"Dido!"  cried  Isabella.    "You  did  not  run  away?" 
"No,  missy.     I  tell  de  truth  against  dat  man." 
"But  the  Voodoo  stone?"  said    Jen,   wondering 

what  she  meant. 

Dido   opened    her    clenched    fist.     The    Voodoo 

stone  lay  in  the  palm  of  her  hand. 


214  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

CHAPTER   XXII. 

FOR  THE  DEFENSE- 

How  she  became  possessed  of  the  Voodoo  stone 
Dido  refused  to  say.  Jen  had  learned  from  Inspector 
Arkel  that  Etwald  wore  the  talisman  on  his  watch 
chain,  and  he  wondered  in  what  fashion  Dido  had 
contrived  to  penetrate  into  the  prison  and  to  obtain 
it  from  the  doctor.  The  whole  result  of  the  trial 
depended  upon  the  transfer  of  the  stone.  If  Etwald 
kept  it,  Dido  would  not  dare  to  give  evidence  against 
him,  and  so,  in  the  absence  of  the  incriminating 
details,  he  would  go  free.  As  it  was,  the  stone  was 
now  in  the  possession  of  Dido,  and  for  some  reason, 
which  Jen  was  unable  to  fathom,  she  was  quite 
content  to  betray  her  share  in  the  plot.  By  chang- 
ing hands,  the  Voodoo  stone  had  transformed  Dido 
into  a  traitress. 

However,  as  the  advantage  derived  from  the 
transfer  was  all  on  the  side  of  the  prosecution,  Jen 
did  not  think  it  wise  to  inquire  too  closely  into  the 
means  which  Dido  had  employed  to  regain  the 
talisman.  He  saw  nothing  of  David,  who  pointedly 
kept  out  of  his  way.  He  made  no  inquiries  of 
Dido,  and  simply  informed  the  inspector  that  the 
negress  was  ready  to  explain  Etwald 's  secrets, 
without  telling  him  why  she  was  willing  to  do  so. 


FOR  THE  DEFENSE.  215 

Her  Majesty's  judges  on  circuit  came  to  Dean- 
minster,  the  court  was  formally  opened,  and  after 
some  trivial  cases  had  been  disposed  of,  the  trial  of 
Regina  v.  Etwald  was  announced.  The  hall  in 
which  the  court  sat  was  crowded  with  people  from 
far  and  near.  There  were  even  reporters  from 
London,  sent  down  by  the  great  dailies,  for  the  case 
had  obtained  more  than  a  local  celebrity.  Inspector 
Arkel,  with  his  seven  witnesses  on  behalf  of  the 
crown,  was  at  the  table  before  the  judges,  and  with 
Major  Jen  had  held  several  conversations  with  the 
public  prosecutor.  David,  calm  and  composed,  but 
paler  than  a  corpse,  was  in  his  place  glancing  over 
his  brief  and  exchanging  curt  sentences  with 
Etwald' s  solicitor.  Lastly,  Etwald  himself,  the 
terrible  criminal  who,  in  the  eyes  of  the  public,  was 
a  hardened  and  bloodthirsty  monster,  stepped  into 
the  dock.  Suave  and  smiling,  he  pleaded  not  guilty 
to  the  indictment,  and  the  trial  commenced. 

The  public  ^prosecutor  stated  the  case  in  all  its 
fullness.  The  prisoner,  said  he,  was  a  medical  man 
practicing  in  Deanminster.  He  had  seen  Miss 
Isabella  Dallas,  and  had  fallen  in  love  with  the  lady, 
and  also — which  was  more  important — with  the 
fortune  of  the  lady.  Evidently  he  had  made  up  his 
mind  that  no  obstacle  should  stand  in  the  way  of 
his  marriage  with  Miss  Dallas.  But  it  so  happened 
that  there  was  one  obstacle — the  young  lady  was  in 
love  with  Mr.  Maurice  Alymer,  a  young  gentleman 
of  position,  who  held  a  commission  in  Her  Majesty's 


2l6  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

.army.  Her  love  was  returned,  and  the  young 
people  were  engaged. 

Interruption  by  the  prisoner's  counsel:  "But 
without  the  consent  of  the  mother." 

The  public  prosecutor  thought  that  the  interrup- 
tion of  his  learned  friend  was  out  of  place ;  as  the 
refusal  of  Mrs.  Dallas — "mother,  gentlemen  of  the 
jury,  to  the  young  lady  engaged  to  the  deceased 
gentleman,  Mr.  Maurice  Alymer" — had  nothing  to 
do  with  the  actual  facts  of  the  case.  The  prisoner, 
seeing  that  while  Mr.  Alymer  lived,  he  could  never 
marry  Miss  Dallas,  determined  to  rid  himself  of 
a  rival.  The  prisoner  had  been  in  Barbadoes,  and 
while  there  he  had  learned  many  things  concerning 
African  witchcraft,  and  had  become  possessor  of  the 
Voodoo  stone,  a  talisman  which  the  black  race  held 
in  peculiar  reverence.  On  his  return  to  England 
the  prisoner  had  become  acquainted  with  Mrs. 
Dallas,  with  the  daughter,  whom  he  designed  to 
marry,  and  with  a  negress  called  Dido,  the  servant 
of  the  aforesaid  Mrs.  Dallas.  By  means  of  the 
Voodoo  stone,  the  prisoner  made  an  absolute  slave 
of  the  negress,  and  could  command  her  services  at 
any  time,  even  to  the  extent  of  crime. 

The  counsel  for  the  defense  objected  to  the  use  of 
the  word  crime.  Nothing,  he  submitted,  had  yet 
been  proved. 

Counsel  for  the  prosecution  accepted  the  correc- 
tion of  his  learned  friend,  and  withdrew  the  obnox- 
ious word  crime — if  not  altogether,  at  all  events  for 


FOR  THE  DEFENSE.  217 

the  time  being.  He  would  resume  his  explanation 
of  the  case.  Major  Jen,  the  adopted  father  of  the 
deceased,  possessed  a  barbaric  curiosity  called  by 
civalized  people  the  devil-stick;  by  barbarians  the 
wand  of  sleep.  This  he  had  obtained  from  Ashan- 
tee,  where  it  was  used  to  kill  people  inimical  to  the 
king  by  the  injection  of  poison.  There  was  no 
need  to  describe  the  devil-stick,  as  it  was  on  the 
table,  and  would  be  shown.to  the  jury.  This  devil- 
stick — 

With  some  impatience  prisoner's  counsel  admitted 
that  the  devil-stick  had  been  used  to  kill  the  deceased, 
and  requested  the  prosecutor  to  pass  on  to  more 
important  details. 

The  counsel  for  the  crown  thanked  his  learned 
friend  for  the  admission,  and  would  continue.  The 
devil-stick  was  stolen  by  Mrs.  Dallas,  who  com- 
mitted the  theft  under  the  hypnotic  influence  of  the 
negress  Dido.  By  the  direction  of  Dr.  Etwald, 
Dido  refilled  the  stick  with  fresh  poison,  being 
enabled  to  manufacture  the  same  from  a  recipe  of 
her  grandmother's — said  grandmother  having  come 
from  Ashantee,  where  the  stick — the  devil-stick,  be 
it  understood — had  been  constructed  and  used. 
She  had  given  this  terrible  weapon  to  the  prisoner, 
who  with  it  had  killed  Mr.  Alymer,  his  rival. 

Counsel  for  the  defense  submitted  that  the  crime 
had  yet  to  be  proved.  His  learned  friend  was 
assuming  too  much. 

The  public  prosecutor  said  that  he  asserted  no 


2i8  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

more  than  he  could  prove  to  their  lordships  and  the 
gentlemen  of  the  jury.  The  prisoner  had  killed 
Mr.  Alymer,  and  it  was  for  this  offense  that  he 
stood  in  yonder  dock.  As  regards  the  theft  of  the 
body--- 

The  lesser  offense,  said  prisoner's  coimsel,  was 
swallowed  up  and  merged  in  the  greater;  there- 
fore, he  protested  against  the  introduction  of  the 
theft  of  the  body. 

The  judge  thought  that  the  two  crimes  were, 
judicially  speaking,  one  and  the  same.  It  was 
right  that  the  crown  prosecutor  should  place  before 
him  the  whole  facts  of  the  case.  One  part  might 
neutralize  or  enhance  or  explain  the  other.  The 
crown  prosecutor  was  quite  in  order. 

Counsel  for  the  prosecution  accepted  his  lordship's 
ruling  and  would  proceed.  The  body  of  Mr. 
Alymer  was  taken  to  the  residence  of  his  adopted 
father.  Major  Jen.  There  it  was  placed  in  the 
bedroom  which  had  formerly  belonged  to  the  living 
man.     Thence  it  was  stolen  by  the  prisoner. 

Counsel  for  the  prisoner:  "All  this  has  yet  to  be 
proved." 

Counsel  for  the  crown:  "I  shall  prove  it  and  at 
once.  The  jury  are  now  in  possession  of  all  the 
facts  of  this  very  interesting  case,  and  every  detail 
will  be  confirmed  by  the  most  responsible  witnesses. 
Call  Major  Jen." 

Evidence — in  brief — of  Major  Jen:  "I  was  the 
guardian     of     the    deceased    Maurice     Alymer.     I 


FOR  THE  DEFENSE.  219 

adopted  him  as  my  son.  He  was  in  love  with,  and 
engaged  to,  Miss  Dallas,  but  the  mother  did  not 
approve  of  the  engagement.  Dr.  Etwald,  the 
prisoner,  also  loved  Miss  Dallas,  but  she  refused 
to  marry  him.  I  showed  the  prisoner  the  devil- 
stick  and  explained  its  use,  whereupon  he  wished 
to  purchase  it.  I  declined  to  part  with  it,  and 
afterward  it  was  stolen.  After  its  disappearance, 
Mr.  Alymer  was  killed  by  means  of  the  devil - 
stick  poison.  His  hand  was  but  slightly  scratched, 
and  he  could  not  have  died  from  so  trivial 
a  cause  had  not  the  weapon  used  been  poisoned. 
Moreover,  I  recognized  the  perfume  which 
emanated  from  the  body  as  that  of  the  devil-sfick 
poison.  Dr.  Etwald  had  threatened  the  deceased 
once  or  twice.  Afterward  the  body  of  deceased 
disappeared,  and  the  drug  used  to  stupefy  the 
watcher  of  the  dead  was  the  poison  of  the  devil- 
stick.  ' ' 

Miss  Dallas  deposed  that  she  had  been  engaged  to 
deceased.  Prisoner  wished  to  marry  her,  and  was 
jealous  of  the  late  Mr.  Alymer.  Once  or  twice  he 
had  threatened  him.  The  negress,  Dido,  was 
accustomed  to  hypnotize  Mrs.  Dallas  for  nervous 
headaches.  While  under  the  influence  of  hypnotism 
Mrs.  Dallas  would  act  according  to  the  dictates  of 
Dido.  On  the  night  that  the  devil-stick  was  stolen 
from  the  house  of  Major  Jen,  Mrs.  Dallas  had  been 
hypnotized  by  Dido.  Witness  had  followed  her,  and 
had  seen  the  theft  of  the  stick.     Afterward  Mrs. 


226  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

Dallas  had  delivered  it  into  the  hands  of  Dido. 
Witness  never  saw  the  devil-stick  again.  She  had 
seen  Mr.  Alymer  on  the  night  he  was  murdered,  as 
he  had  called  to  see  her.  Witness  had  parted 
with  him  at  the  gates,  and  had  seen  him  go  down 
the  road  toward  "Ashantee."  It  was  the  last  time 
witness  saw  him.  It  was  well  known  to  witness 
that  Dido  was  under  the  influence  of  Dr.  Etwald, 
on  account  of  the  latter  possessing  the  Voodoo  stone 
charm.  Dido  had  manufactured  the  fresh  poison  of 
the  devil-stick  as  a  panacea  for  nervous  headache, 
from  which  witness  suffered.  So  far  as  witness 
knew,  deceased  was  in  the  best  of  spirits  at  the 
time  of  his  death,  and  had  no  intention  of  putting 
an  end  to  his  life.  Witness  could  swear  that  prisoner 
was  a  bitter  and  jealous  enemy  of  deceased. 

Mrs.  Dallas  declared  that  she  suffered — like  her 
daughter — from  nervous  headaches.  To  cure  these 
she  submitted  frequently  to  hypnotic  treatment  at 
the  hands  of  Dido,  who  was  gifted  with  a  strong 
will.  On  the  night  the  devil-stick  was  stolen 
she  had  been  hypnotized,  but  she  did  not  know  what 
she  did  while  under  the  influence.  While  in  the 
trance — as  it  may  be  called — she  never  knew  what 
she  did,  and  she  had  hitherto  had  every  confidence 
in  Dido,  as  an  old  and  faithful  servant,  that  she — 
Dido — would  not  induce  her  to  do  wrong  things 
while  hypnotized.  She  had  never  seen  the  devil- 
stick,  either  at  the  house  of  Major  Jen  or  in  her  own. 
The  negress  had  prepared  a  drug  for  the  cure  of 


FOR  THE  DEFENSE.  221 

headaches,  which  witness  believed  was  similar — as 
was  judged  from  the  perfume — to  the  poison  con- 
tained in  the  devil-stick.  She  knew  that  her 
daughter  wished  to  marry  the  deceased,  but  for 
certain  reasons — not  pertinent  to  the  case — she  had 
declined  to  sanction  the  engagement.  She  would 
not  have  permitted  her  daughter  to  marry  Dr. 
Etwald,  as  she  did  not  like  him  or  approve  of  the 
influence  which  he  exercised  over  Dido.  She  knew 
that  prisoner  possessed  the  Voodoo  stone,  and  by 
means  of  it  could  make  any  member  of  the  black 
race  do  his  will.  Prisoner  was  a  declared  enemy  of 
the  deceased,  as  a  jealousy  existed  between  them  on 
account  of  her  daughter.  In  presence  of  witnesses 
prisoner  had  threatened  deceased.  She  knew  noth- 
ing of  the  theft  of  the  body. 

Lady  Meg  Brance  was  called  by  the  prosecution 
to  prove  that  a  certain  mendicant,  by  name  Batter- 
sea,  had  offered  her  the  devil-stick  for  sale  as  a 
curiosity.  Knowing  that  it  was  the  weapon  with 
which  Mr.  Alymer  had  been  killed — according  to 
the  reports  which  were  current  at  the  time — she 
had  brought  it  to  Major  Jen,  along  with  the  tramp. 

Battersea  entered  the  witness-box  and  deposed 
that  he  was  of  mixed  negro  blood,  and  by  reason  of 
his  superstition,  under  the  influence  of  Dido.  At 
times  she  hypnotized  him,  but  he  did  not  know 
when  she  did  it ;  he  thought  it  was  Obi — African 
witchcraft.  Sometimes  he  carried  messages  between 
her  and  the  prisoner.     Dr.  Etwald  had  told  him  to 


222  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

say  one  single  word  to  Dido — that  was  "devil-stick. " 
He  did  not  know  what  it  meant.  Afterward  the 
devil-stick — as  he  was  told — ^had  disappeared,  and 
Mr.  Alymer  was  murdered.  He  found  the  devil- 
stick  on  the  grass,  near  the  bushes,  within  the  gates 
of  "The  Wigwam."  Not  knowing  what  it  was,  he 
took  it  to  Lady  Meg  Brance,  who  sometimes  gave 
him  money.  She  took  witness  and  the  devil-stick 
to  Major  Jen,  who  now  possessed  it.  With  regard 
to  the  stealing  of  the  body,  witness  said  that  he  saw 
it  placed  in  a  carriage,  and  by  clinging  on  behind 
he  had  traced  the  carriage  to  the  house  of  Dr. 
Etwald,  in  Deanminster.  Prisoner  drove  the 
carriage  himself.  Witness  tried  to  get  money  out 
of  prisoner  by  telling  what  he  had  seen;  but 
Dr.  Etwald  had  forced  him  to  hold  his  tongue  by 
threatening  him  with  the  vengeance  of  the  Voodoo 
stone.  Being  half  an  African,  witness  was  very 
much  afraid  of  the  charm. 

In  his  turn  Jaggard,  but  lately  recovered  from  his 
illness,  related  how  he  had  been  drugged  by  Dido, 
and  how  she  had  been  concealed  under  the  bed. 
After  his  evidence,  which  did  not  take  long,  had 
been  given,  the  principal  witness  for  the  prosecution 
was  called,  and  the  negress  Dido,  whose  name  had 
been  so  often  mentioned,  entered  the  witness-box. 

In  brief,  her  evidence  was  as  follows:  "I  am  a 
full-blooded  negress,  born  in  Barbadoes.  My  grand- 
mother came  from  "Ashantee, "  and  knew  all  about 
the  wand  of  sleep.     She  taught  me  how  to  manu- 


FOR  THE  DEFENSE.  223 

facture  the  poison.  I  came  to  England  with  my 
mistress  and  met  with  prisoner,  who  called  at  the 
house.  He  knew  a  great  deal  about  Obi  and  showed 
me  the  Voodoo  stone.  A  spirit  dances  in  the  stone, 
and  I  was  bound  to  do  what  the  spirit  told  me.  It 
said  I  was  to  obey  prisoner.  Dr.  Etwald  wanted  to 
marry  my  young  mistress,  but  she  was  engaged  to 
Mr.  Alymer.  Prisoner  told  me  that  Mr.  Alymer 
must  be  got  out  of  the  way,  and  suggested  the  use 
of  the  devil-stick,  which  he  had  seen  in  the  smoking- 
room  of  Major  Jen.  I  agreed  to  help  him,  and  by 
hypnotizing  my  mistress  I  made  her  steal  the  devil- 
stick.  She  brought  it  to  me,  all  unconscious  of 
having  done  so,  and  I  filled  it  with  fresh  poison. 
On  the  night  of  the  murder  Mr.  Alymer  called  to 
see  my  mistress,  also  Dr.  Etwald.  When  Mr. 
Alymer  left  1  gave  the  stick  to  prisoner,  and  he 
followed  deceased  to  kill  him.  Next  day  I  heard 
that  Mr.  Alymer  was  dead.  After  a  time  prisoner 
told  me  that  we  must  steal  the  body,  so  that  traces 
of  poison  should  not  be  found  when  a  post-mortem 
examination  was  made.  I  agreed  to  help  him,  and 
gaining  admission  into  the  chamber  of  death  I  hid 
under  the  bed.  When  Jaggard  fell  asleep  I 
drugged  him  with  the  poison  of  the  devil-stick  and 
opened  the  window,  outside  of  which  prisoner  was 
waiting.  I  assisted  him  to  carry  the  body  to  his 
carriage,  and  then  left  him.     That  is  all  I  know." 

This  evidence  closed  the  case  for  the  prosecution, 
and — as  may  be   guessed — it    caused    a    profound 


224  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

sensation  in  court.  Everyone  without  exception 
looked  upon  the  prisoner  as  guilty,  and  they  con- 
sidered it  futile  when  David  Sarby  rose  to  deliver 
his  speech  for  the  defense.  The  young  man  was 
even  paler  than  usual,  and  when  he  rose  laid  down 
the  devil-stick,  at  which  he  had  been  looking. 
When  on  his  feet  he  glanced  round  the  court  and 
caught  the  gaze  of  Isabella,  who  was  staring 
eagerly  at  him.  Then  he  turned  to  his  client.  Dr. 
Etwald,  still  composed — even  after  the  frightful 
evidence  which  had  been  given — smiled  coldly  on 
his  counsel.  David  shuddered,  and  picking  up  the 
devil-stick  spoke  sharply  and  to  the  point. 

"My  lord  and  gentlemen  of  the  jury,  you  have 
heard  the  evidence  of  the  crown,  which  makes  out 
that  my  client  is  guilty.  That  evidence  is  wrong, 
as  can  be  proved  by  one  witness.  I  am  the  witness. 
In  my  rooms  there  is  lying  a  confession,  signed  and 
witnessed,  which  sets  forth  that  I  am  the  guilty 
person.  It  was  I,  not  Dr.  Etwald,  who  murdered 
Maurice  Alymer.  (Sensation  in  the  court.)  *'Yes. 
I  was  in  love  with  Miss  Dallas,  and  therefore  was 
jealous  of  Maurice.  I  knew  that  Dido  possessed 
the  devil-stick — how,  it  does  not  matter — and  I 
bribed  her  to  give  it  to  me.  I  pretended  to  go  to 
London  on  the  night  of  the  murder,  but  instead  of 
doing  so  I  remained  in  the  grounds  of  Mrs.  Dallas, 
where  I  obtained  the  devil -stick  from  Dido.  I  saw 
Maurice  meet  with  Miss  Dallas.  I  saw  them  kiss 
and   part.     Inflamed    by  jealousy,  I    rushed  after 


FOR  THE  DEFENSE.  225 

him  and  met  him  on  the  road.  He  turned  in 
surprise,  and  flung  out  his  arms  to  keep  me  off. 
The  devil-stick,  with  its  poison  fang  protruding, 
was  in  my  grasp,  and  in  throwing  out  his  arm  I 
wounded  him  in  the  palm  of  the  hand,  thus — " 

David  took  the  devil-stick  firmly  in  his  grasp  and 
compressed  the  handle.  At  once  the  iron  tongue 
with  its  drop  of  venom  appeared.  With  the  sharp 
point  he  made  an  irregular  wound  on  the  palm 
of  his  hand,  and  cast  the  devil-stick  on  the  table 
before  him.  A  moment  afterward,  amid  the  silent 
horror  of  the  crowded  court,  he  fell  down — dead. 


15 


226  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 
THE  RESULT  OF  THE  TRIAL. 

Naturally  the  tragic  end  of  the  counsel  for  the 
defense  created  a  great  sensation.  The  trial  was 
brought  to  an  abrupt  conclusion,  the  court  was 
cleared,  and  the  body  of  the  dead  man  taken  to  the 
residence  of  Major  Jen.  In  his  rooms  at  Dean- 
minster  was  found  the  confession  signed  by  him, 
and  which  was  substantially  the  same  as  that  which 
he  had  made  in  court.  At  once — after  the  formal- 
ities of  the  law  had  been  observ^ed — Dr.  Etwald  was 
set  at  liberty  on  the  charge  of  murder. 

Whereupon  he  returned  to  his  house  as  though 
nothing  had  happened.  Mrs.  Dallas  and  Isabella 
came  back  to  "The  Wigwam,"  but  without  Dido. 
On  the  day  when  the  trial  terminated  in  so  tragic  a 
manner  the  negress  disappeared,  and  with  her 
the  famous  Voodoo  stone. 

"I  wish  I  could  have  caught  her,"  said  Arkel  to 
Major  Jen.  "She  committed  perjury  in  order  to 
get  Dr.  Etwald  hanged,  and  she  ought  to  have 
been  punished  for  her  wickedness.  It  has  been  a 
terrible  affair,  major." 

Jen,  who  was  now  looking  old  and  broken  down, 
agreed  with  a  sad  shake  of  his  graj^^  head. 

"My  poor  lads,"  said  he,  in  a  voice  full  of  pathos. 


THE  RESULT  OF  THE  TRIAL.  227 

First  one  and  then  the  other — to  lose  them  both  in 
this  awful  fashion." 

"What!"  cried  Arkel,  in  surprise.  "Do  you  pity- 
Mr.  Sarby?" 

"Why  not?"  answered  the  major,  quietly.  "To 
my  mind,  he  needs  more  pity  than  poor  Maurice. 
The  lad  was  driven  mad  by  jealousy,  and  he  was 
worked  on  by  Dido  to  commit  the  crime.  The 
cause  of  all  these  troubles,  Mr.  Inspector,  is  not  Dr. 
Etwald,  but  that  black  witch.  I  wish  she  could  be 
caught. ' ' 

"She  may  be,  major.  There  is  a  warrant  out 
against  her  for  perjury. ' ' 

Arkel  spoke  too  hopefully,  for  Dido  was  never 
caught.  She  was  too  clever  to  give  the  police  a 
chance  of  laying  hands  on  her.  Like  a  stone  cast 
into  a  wide  ocean,  she  disappeared  from  Dean- 
minster — from  England,  no  doubt,  and  possessed  of 
the  Voodoo  stone,  possibly  took  her  way  back  to  her 
native  "Ashantee, "  there  to  become  the  high 
priestess  in  the  horrible  fetish  worship  of  Africa. 

For  the  next  two  days  Major  Jen  stayed  in  his 
house  and  watched  over  the  corpse  of  David.  It 
was  laid  out  in  what  had  been  the  young  man's  bed- 
chamber, surrounded  by  burning  candles,  and  with 
pale  flowers  of  virginal  whiteness  scattered  on  the 
bed.  The  whole  scene  was  but  a  repetition  of  that 
which  had  taken  place  when  Maurice  had  died. 
Both  young  men  had  perished  from  the  effects  of 
the  infernal  African  poison.     Both  had  perished  in 


2  28  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

the  bloom  of  youth ;  and  on  the  right  hand  of  each 
was  the  fatal  wound  which  had  corrupted  the  blood. 
But  the  corpse  of  David  was  here.  The  corpse  of 
Maurice,  where?  Only  Dr.  Etwald" could  answer 
the  ^question,  and  he,  released  on  the  charge  of 
murder,  was  now  out  on  bail  for  the  theft  of  the 
corpse. 

While  the  major  was  wondering  what  would  be 
the  outcome  of  all  the  terrible  events  which 
had  filled  the  past  few  weeks,  Jaggard — who,  with 
his  recovered  health,  had  resumed  his  duties — 
entered  the  library  and  announced  that  Mrs.  Dallas 
and  her  daughter  wished  to  see  him.  Although  he 
was  unwilling  to  speak  to  those  who  had  caused 
these  troubles,  Jen  had  no  reasonable  grounds  for 
refusing  an  interview.  Therefore,  he  gave  orders 
that  the  ladies  should  be  shown  into  the  drawing- 
room.  When  he  repaired  thither,  however,  he 
found  to  his  surprise  that  Mrs.  Dallas  only  was 
waiting  for  him. 

' '  I  could  not  get  Isabella  further  than  the  door  of 
your  house,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Dallas,  who  was  in 
deep  mourning,  whether  for  Maurice  or  David,  or 
for  the  loss  of  Dido,  it  was  impossible  to  say. 

"Why  did  she  not  come  in?"  asked  Jen,  coldly, 
for  he  did  not  feel  very  amiably  disposed  toward  the 
widow. 

"I  don't  know.  She  is  a  strange  girl,  major,  and 
the  events  of  the  last  few  weeks  have  shaken  her 
nerves. " 


THE  RESULT  OF  THE  TRIAL.  229 

"They  have  shaken  mine,"  retorted  Jen,  grimly. 
"But  we  need  not  discuss  these  things,  Mrs.  Dallas. 
May  I  ask  why  you  have  paid  me  this  visit?" 

"To  tell  you  that  we  are  going  away." 

"Going  away,  and  where,  may  I  ask?" 

"Back  to  Barbadoes,"  replied  Mrs.  Dallas,  with 
a  sigh.  "Yes,  major,  after  what  has  taken  place 
here,  I  can  stay  no  longer  in  England.  I  shall  sell 
my  house  and  leave  for  the  West  Indies  with  my 
daughter  within  the  month." 

"I  think  it  is  the  best  thing  you  can  do,"  said  Jen, 
brusquely.  "By  the  way,  what  has  become  of  Dido?" 

"She  has  left  me  in  the  most  ungrateful  manner. 
Since  she  obtained  the  Voodoo  stone  and  gave 
evidence  at  the  trial  she  has  not  been  seen.  I 
believe,"  added  Mrs.  Dallas,  in  a  confidential 
manner,  "that  Dido  has  gone  to  Barbadoes  also." 

"To  be  queen  of  the  black  witches  of  Obi,  no 
doubt.     Faugh ! ' ' 

"I  am  disgusted  with  her,  too,"  said  Mrs.  Dallas, 
indorsing  the  major's  exclamation. 

"So  you  ought  to  be,  Mrs.  Dallas,  for  Dido  has 
been  your  evil  genius.  If  you  had  not  submitted  to 
her  will,  she  would  not  have  dared  to  hypnotize  you. 
If  you  had  not  been  hypnotized  on  that  night,  you 
would  not  have  taken  the  devil-stick,  consequently 
both  David  and  Maurice  would  still  be  alive.  Your 
negress  has  been  a  perfect  Ate,  Mrs.  Dallas." 

"Major,  major!  Do  not  be  too  hard  on  me.  I 
suffer — oh,  how  I  suffer!" 


230  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

"And  I  also.  Both  my  boys  are  dead,  one  by  the 
hand  of  the  other,  and  that  other  by  his  own  hand. 
It  is  you  and  your  daughter  and  Dido  who  have 
brought  about  these  things.  Go  to  Barbadoes,  Mrs. 
Dallas,  by  all  means.  You  and  yours  have  done 
quite  sufficient  mischief  in  England. ' ' 

Just  as  Jen  ended  his  speech  and  Mrs.  Dallas  was 
about  to  reply,  the  door  opened  to  admit — Dr. 
Etwald.  Both  the  major  and  the  Creole  stared  at 
him  in  surprise,  as  neither  for  the  moment  could 
grasp  the  idea  that  he  had  been  bold  enough  to 
present  himself  before  those  whom  he  had  so  deeply 
wronged. 

"Ah,"  said  Etwald,  as  complacently  as  ever,  "I 
thought  I  should  find  you  here,  major,  but  I  hardly 
expected  to  see  Mrs.  Dallas." 

"You  villain!"  cried  that  lady,  starting  from  her 
seat.  "Do  you  think  I  want  to  see  you  after  all 
the  misery  you  have  caused?  Why,"  I  refuse 
even  to  remain  in  the  same  room  with  you. ' '  And 
with  a  furious  gesture  the  Creole  swept  past  Etwald 
and  out  of  the  door,  which  she  banged  loudly. 
Etwald  looked  at  the  door,  shrugged  his  shoulders, 
and  turned  politely  to  the  major. 

"It  is  just  as  well  she  is  gone,"  said  he,  quietly. 
"It  is  better  that  our  conversation  should  be 
private." 

"I  wish  to  hold  no  conversation  with  a  scoundrel, 
sir,"  cried  Jen,  purple  with  rage.  "Follow  the 
example  of  Mrs.  Dallas,  if  you  please." 


THE  RESULT  OF  THE  TRIAL.  231 

Etwald  looked  round  for  a  chair,  selected  the 
most  comfortable,  and  sat  down  with  great  delibera- 
tion. 

"I  never  follow  any  one's  example,  major,"  he 
said,  dryly.  "It  is  always  my  custom  to  act  inde- 
pendently." 

"I'll  have  you  turned  out  of  the  house." 

"In  that  case  you'll  never  hear  what  I  have  come 
to  tell  you." 

"What  is  that,  sir?"  demanded  Jen,  in  a  calmer 
tone. 

"The  truth!" 

' '  Bah !     I  heard  that  in  court. ' ' 

"Indeed  you  did  no  such  thing,"  retorted  Etwald, 
coolly.  "My  story  is  quite  different  to  that  of 
Dido." 

"David's  was  different  also." 

"I  know  it.  But  my  story — the  true  story,  mind 
you — differs  even  from  David's.  Will  you  hear  it, 
major,  or  shall  I  leave  your  house  before  I  suffer  the 
disgrace  of  being  kicked  out?" 

The  major  considered  for  a  few  moments  before 
replying.  There  was  a  hinted  mystery  in  the 
manner  of  Etwald  which  puzzled  him  not  a  little, 
and  what  this  demeanor  might  mean  he  was  anxious 
to  learn.  Moreover,  he  wished  to  know  the  actual 
facts  of  the  case,  and  now  that  Dido  had  fled 
Etwald  was  the  only  one  who  could  tell  them. 
Acting  upon  these  considerations,  Jen  sat  down 
again  in  his  chair  and  sulkily  gave  Etwald  permis- 


232  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

sion  to  remain  and  explain.  This  the  doctor 
proceeded  to  do  at  once. 

"As  you  are  aware,"  said  he,  calmly,  "I  escaped 
the  charge  of  murder,  and  very  right,  too,  seeing 
that  I  was  innocent  of  the  crime.  But  as  to  the 
stealing  of  the  body,  I  am  guilty,  and  I  do  not — " 

"Where  is  the  body,  you  wretch?" 

"Pardon  me,"  said  Etwald,  raising  his  hand  in 
protest.  "If  you  interrupt  or  call  me  names,  I 
shall  tell  you  nothing.  To  proceed,"  he  added, 
seeing  the  major  held  his  peace.  "I  am  out  on  bail, 
and  must  come  up  for  trial  soon  on  the  charge  I 
spoke  of.  However,  I  am  not  afraid,  as  I  can  defend 
myself  in  a  manner  you  little  dream  oiT  But  being 
out  on  bail,  I  came  to  see  you, ' ' , 

"To  tell  me  more  lies?" 

"To  tell  you  the  truth,  my  dear  major,  and  I 
assure  you  that  the  truth  will  surprise  you  not  a  little. ' ' 

"What  is  it?"  demanded  Jen,  in  a  fever  of  excite- 
ment. 

'  Patience !  Patience !  I  shall  tell  you  when  the 
time  comes.     But,  by  the  way,  major — Dido?" 

"She  has  fled." 

' '  I  know  it.     She  was  afraid  of  me. ' ' 

"Hardly,"  replied  Jen,  a  trifle  spitefully.  "You 
have  lost  the  Voodoo  stone,  remember." 

"Yes.  I  was  taken  advantage  of  for  once  in  ray  life. 
A  cunding  woman,  that  Dido.  She  got  permission  to 
see  me  in  prison,  and  to  talk  to  me  alone,  under  the 
pretense  of  telling  me  about  her  evidence.     Know- 


THE  RESULT  OF  THE  TRIAL.  233 

ing  that  I  could  compel  her  to  do  what  I  wished  by 
_means  of  the  Voodoo  stone,  I  saw  her  with  pleasure, 
as  it  was  mj^  intention  to  put  the  words  likely  to  get 
me  off — to  prove  my  innocence — into  her  mouth. 
However,  while  I  was  talking  to  her,  she  suddenly 
produced  a  phial  of  the  devil-stick  poison  and  threw 
it  in  my  face.  Of  course,  I  instantly  became 
unconscious,  and  it  was  then  that  she  wrenched  the 
talisman  off  my  watch-chain." 

"ISkthe  poison  so  quick  in  its  effects  then?" 

"I  should  think  so,"  said  Etwald,  coldly.  "You 
saw  how  David  fell  in  court,  after  wounding  his 
hand.  I  fell  in  prison  quite  as  quickly,  but  as  my 
skin  was  not  scratched,  and  the  drug  took  effect  only 
through  the  nostrils,  I  recovered. ' ' 

"And  when  you  recovered?" 

"The  jailer  told  me  that  Dido  had  called  him  in, 
saying  that  I  had  fainted.  While  they  were  getting 
me  round — which  took  an  hour — Dido  went  off  with 
the  Voodoo  stone.  Those  about  the  prison  had  no 
reason  to  detain  her,  so  she  left.  When  I  found  the 
Voodoo  stone  gone,"  added  Etwald,  impressively. 
"I  knew  that  the  black  wretch  would  give  evidence 
against  me,  and  that  the  game  was  at  an  end. ' ' 

"You  expected  to  be  hanged?"  suggested  Jen. 

"Well,  no!"  replied  the  doctor,  with  wonderful 
coolness,  "I  did  not  expect  that.  If  the  worst 
came  to  the  worst,  I  knew  that  I  could  protect 
myself;  but  I  must  admit  .that  the  confession  of  my 
counsel,  Mr.  Sarby,  took  me some^^iiat  by  surprise." 


234  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

"Poor  David!"  sighed  Jen,  thinking  of  the  young 
man  cut  off  in  the  bloom  of  his  youth. 

"Poor  David!"  echoed  Etwald,  with  a  sneer. 
"Foolish  David,  you  might  say,  to  die  for  the  sake 
of  a  woman. ' ' 

"Yet  you  risked  death  for  the  same  woman." 

"I  risked  danger  for  the  woman's  fortune," 
retorted  Etwald,  with  revolting  candor.  "It  was  the 
money  I  wanted.  But  death — no,  I  did  not  risk 
that." 

"I  am  not  so  sure  of  that,  Etwald.  How  did  you 
know  that  David  would  confess  in  so  dramatic  a 
fashion?" 

"I  did  not  know  it,  major.  As  I  said  before,  his 
confession  took  me  by  surprise.  Still,  as  I  was 
innocent,  I  knew  that  I  could  not  be  hanged." 

"Well,"  said  Jen,  growing  weary  of  this  long- 
continued  conversation,  which  seemed  to  lead  to 
nothing,  "at  all  events  you'll  not  escape  a  long  term 
of  imprisonment." 

"Why?"  said  Etwald,  with  an  agreeable  smile. 
"There  are  two  opinions  about  that.  Mine  is  that 
I  shall  go  free.  Then,"  he  added,  coolly,  "I  intend 
to  seek  Barbadoes  and  search  for  that  black  witch 
in  order  to  recover  the  Voodoo  stone. ' ' 

"I  hope  you'll  get  the  chance  of  going,  but  I  doubt 
it.  However,  if  you  do  get  as  far  as  the  West  Indies 
you'll  find  friends  there." 

"Really!     Any  particular  friends?" 

"I  don't  know  if  you'll  consider  them    so;   but 


THE  RESULT  OF  THE  TRIAL.  235 

Mrs.  Dallas  and  her  daughter  go  back  to  their  estates 
in  Barbadoes  within  the  month. ' ' 

"Really!"  said  Etwald  again,  "Then  I  may 
marry  her  after  all.>' 

"She  won't  have  you." 

' '  Oh,  I  think  so.  I  have  a  means  of  compelling 
her  to  marry  me. '  * 

Jen  jumped  up  with  a  scowl. 

"I'm  tired  of  your  enigmas,"  he  cried,  angrily. 
"What  is  it  you  wish  to  tell  me?" 

"The  name  of  the  person  who  committed  the 
murder. ' ' 

"I  know  it.     David  Sarby!" 

' '  Not  at  all.  He  accused  himself  to  shield  the  real 
person. ' ' 

"To  shield  the  assassin?"  gasped  Jen,  thunder- 
struck.    "And  who  is  the  assassin?" 

"Can't  you  guess  from  his  self -accusation?  Why, 
the  woman  he  loved. ' ' 

"Isabella?" 

"Exactly.  Isabella  Dallas,  and  none  other, 
killed  your  boy  Maurice. ' ' 


236  FOR  THE  DEFENSE, 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 
A  FINAL  SURPRISE. 

"Isabella  killed  Maurice!"  said  Jen,  pushing  back 
his  chair.  "Impossible,  doctor.  You  must  be  mis- 
taken." 

"I  don't  think  so,"  replied  Etwald,  dryly.  "I 
saw  her  do  it.     So  did  David. ' ' 

"You  must  be  mistaken,"  insisted  the  major 
once  more.  "David  was  in  London  on  the  night 
when  the  crime  was  committed." 

"By  his  own  confession  in  court,  David  was  in 
the  grounds  of  Mrs.  Dallas  on  that  night." 

"Yes,  yes.  You  are  right!"  said  Jen,  in  a  bewil- 
dered tone.  "Still,  I  cannot  believe  that  Isabella 
killed  Maurice.  She  loved  him  dearly,  and  had  no 
reason  to  murder  him." 

"None  in  the  world.  Yet  she  certainly  took  his 
life." 

"Why  not?"  said  Etwald,  coolly.  "Mrs.  Dallas 
had  no  reason  to  steal  the  devil-stick,  yet — " 

"Without  a  reason!     I  don't  believe  it." 

"Ah,  but  she  was  hypnotized.  She  did  not  act  of 
her  own  free  will. ' ' 

"Precisely  the  case  with  Isabella,"  said  the  doctor, 
nodding.     "Come,  major,    I  won't  worry  you  any 


A  FINAL  SURPRISE.  237 

longer  with  inquiries.  Dido  hypnotized  the  daughter 
to  commit  the  crime,  as  she  had  willed  the  mother 
to  steal  the  devil-stick.  Isabella  is  absolutely 
ignorant  of  what  she  did,  and  firmly  believed  that  I 
was  the  guilty  person.  Now,  of  course,  she  thinks 
David — by  his  own  confession— is  the  assassin. ' ' 
"But  David  confessed  himself  guilty,  to  save  her?" 
"Of  course;  but  Isabella  does  not  know  that.  She 
thinks — and  on  the  face  of  it,  with  reason — that 
David  killed  Maurice  out  of  jealousy." 

"How  was  it  David  saw  the  crime  committed?" 
"I  shall  explain,"  said  Etwald.  "David  found 
out  that  Maurfce  was  going  to  meet  Isabella  that 
night  secretly  in  the  grounds  of  Mrs.  Dallas  near 
the  gates.  Determined  to  see  the  meeting,  and  to 
learn  if  there  was  any  hope  for  him,  he  feigned  a 
journey  to  London  in  order  to  lull  any  suspicions 
which  Maurice  might  have  that  he  was  being 
watched.  Instead  of  going,  however,  he  concealed 
himself  at  a  spot  where  he  could  see  the  gates  which 
opened  onto  the  highway.  Now,"  added  Etwald, 
with  a  side  glance  at  the  major,  "it  so  happened 
that  I  also  wished  to  see  that  meeting. ' ' 

"How  did  you  know  it  was  about  to  take  place?" 
"I  learned  the  fact  from  Dido,  who  advised  me  of 
all  which  went  on  in  the  Dallas  household,  as  you 
may  guess.  Well,  I  saw  David  in  his  place  of  con- 
cealment and  guessed  his  reason  for  coming. 
Maurice  appeared  at  the  rendezvous,  and  shortly 
afterward  Isabella,  under   the   hypnotic   influence, 


238  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

came  down  the  avenue.  In  her  hand  she  held  the 
devil-stick,  and  came  swiftly  toward  Maurice.  He, 
not  understanding  the  deadly  weapon  with  which 
she  was  armed,  came  to  meet  her  with  outstretched 
arms.  She  thrust  the  devil-stick  before  her,  and 
wounded  him  in  the  palm  of  the  hand.  With  a  cry 
he  fell — dead!" 

"Within  the  gates?"  asked  the  major,  much 
agitated. 

"Yes,  within  the  gates,"  responded  Etwald. 
"When  Isabella  had  struck  the  blow  she  dropped  the 
devil-stick  in  the  grass,  where,  if  you  remember,  it 
was  afterward  found  by  Battersea.'  Then  she 
returned  to  the  house  by  the  little  path  which  leads 
thereto  through  the  surrounding  trees.  The  body 
lay  in  the  bright  moonlight,  full  in  the  center  of  the 
path,  not  a  stonethrow  from  the  high  road.  David 
and  I  rushed  simultaneously  from  our  hiding-places, 
and  I  explained  hurriedly  that  the  body  must  not  be 
found  in  the  grounds.  He  understood,  and  we 
carried  the  body  onto  the  road.  Before  we  had 
time  to  deliberate  what  was  to  be  done  we  heard  the 
noise  of  approaching  footsteps,  and  afraid — both  of 
us — of  being  accused  of  the  crime,  we  fled.  Then  you 
came  down  the  road  and  discovered  the  corpse." 

"Yes.  I  heard  the  poor  lad's  cry,"  said  Jen, 
simply,  "and  I  ran  down  at  once.  You  must  have 
been  very  quick  in  your  movements. ' ' 

"There  was  ample  necessity  for  prompt  action," 
replied  Etwald,  with    some  dryness,    "as    neither 


A  FINAL  SURPRISE.  239 

David  nor  I  wished  to  be  arrested.  But  now  you 
can  understand  how  it  was  that  David  refused  to 
reply  to  your  questions  and  agreed  to  defend  me." 

"I  understand.  He  said,  poor  lad,  that  I  would 
approve  of  his  reasons  when  I  knew  them,  and  now 
that  you  have  explained  his  motives  I  quite  agree 
with  his  saying.  To  protect  that  poor  girl,  to  save 
you  from  suffering  for  a  crime  which  you  did  not 
commit,  he  could  have  acted  in  no  other  fashion. 
Still,  I  wish  both  of  you  had  been  more  open  with 
me." 

"I  am  afraid  that  would  have  been  impossible, 
major,"  said  Etwald,  rising.  "You  were  so  dis- 
tracted over  the  death  of  Maurice,  and  so  unjust  in 
your  hatred  of  me,  that  it  would  have  been  danger- 
ous to  trust  you. ' ' 

"Am  I  unjust  in  my  hatred  of  you?"  demanded 
Jen,  getting  on  his  feet.  "I  think  not.  Dr.  Etwald. 
Your  desire  to  marry  Isabella,  or  rather  her  fortune, 
has  been  the  cause  of  all  these  ills.  Dido  was  only 
your  instrument,  whom  you  compelled  to  work  by 
means  of  the  Voodoo  stone.  That  she  betrayed 
you  in  the  end  was  your  punishment.  I  do  not 
blame  her  so  much  as  I  do  you.  You  alone  are 
responsible  for  the  death  of  those  two  poor  lads  of 
mine." 

"Well,  have  it  your  own  way,"  said  Etwald, 
carelessly.  "I  am  a  scoundrel  in  your  eyes,  I 
dare  say;  but  if  you  will  permit  me  to  see  you 
to-morrow  at  eleven  o'clock  I  shall  be  able  to  prove 


240  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

that  this  particular  devil — meaning  myself,  major — 
is  not  quite  so  black  as  you  have  painted  him." 

"I  never  want  to  set  eyes  on  you  again,"  said 
Jen,  bluntly. 

"Nor  will  you — after  mid-day  to-morrow.  But 
you  will  regret  if  you  do  not  grant  me  this  inter- 
view." 

"What  do  you  wish  to  say?" 

"I'll  tell  you  to-morrow." 

"Can't  you  say  it  now?" 

"No,  Major  Jen,  I  can't,  and  I  shan't,"  retorted 
Etwald,  tartly.  "If  you  are  wise  you  will  arrange 
to  let  me  come  here  to-morrow  at  eleven,  and  meet 
Mrs.  Dallas  and  her  daughter." 

"Both  of  them  will  refuse  to  meet  you.  You  saw 
Mrs.  Dallas  to-day,  how  she  behaved." 

"Like  the  fool  she  is,"  said  the  doctor,  putting  on 
his  hat.  "Well,  I  am  going.  Will  you  see  me 
to-morrow  morning?" 

"Yes.  I  don't  know  what  possible  things  you 
can  find  to  say  to  me  after  this  interview;  but,  as 
you  make  such  a  point  of  it,  I'll  see  you." 

"And  ask  Mrs.  Dallas  and  her  daughter  to  be 
present?" 

"Yes.     I'll  try  and  get  them  to  come. " 

"Very  good."  Etwald  walked  toward  the  door, 
but  there,  struck  by  a  sudden  thought,  he  looked  back. 
"Of  course  you  will  not  tell  Isabella  that  she  killed 
Mr.  Alymer?"  he  said,  hurriedly. 

"Not  at  present,"    said  Jen,  after   a  moment's 


A  FINAL  SURPRISE.  241 

thought.  "But,  later  on,  I  shall,  in  order  to  clear 
the  memory  of  David. ' ' 

"And  condemn  the  poor  girl  to  eternal  misery," 
said  Etwald.  "Well,  I  do  not  agree  with  you.  But, 
at  least,  keep  silent  until  after  our  interview  to-mor- 
row. ' ' 

"Yes.     I  promise  you  I'll  say  nothing." 

"Thank  you,  major.    Good-by  for  the  present." 

"Good-by, "  said  Jen,  and  as  the  door  closed  behind 
the  doctor  he  muttered,  "and  may  the  devil  go  with 
you,  for  a  greater  scoundrel  does  not  exist. ' ' 

Later  on  in  the  day  Jen  sent  a  letter  to  "The  Wig- 
wam, ' '  asking  Mrs.  Dallas  to  come  with  her  daughter 
the  next  morning  at  eleven  o'clock.  He  did  not 
explain  that  Dr.  Etwald  would  be  present,  as  he 
knew  the  temper  of  Mrs.  Dallas.  Whatever  might 
be  at  stake,  even  if  it  was  to  her  own  interest,  she 
would  refuse  to  meet  the  man  toward  whom  she 
bore  so  strong  a  hatred.  Therefore,  Jen  decided  to 
be  diplomatic,  and  keep  silent  as  to  the  visit  of 
Etwald.  During  the  afternoon  a  note  was  brought 
to  Jen,  in  which  Mrs.  Dallas  promised  to  come  and 
to  bring  Isabella. 

"Very  good,"  said  Jen  to  himself.  "That  matter 
is  settled,  and  Etwald — confound  him ! — will  obtain 
his  desire.  I  wonder  what  he  wants  to  see  us  all 
about. ' ' 

In  spite  of  all  his  conjecturing,  the  major  found 
himself  unable  to  answer  this  question.  Therefore, 
like  a  wise  man,  he  possessed  himself  in  patience 
16 


24i  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

until  the  next  morning.  Most  of  the  night  he  passed 
in  the  room  where  poor  David  was  laid  out,  for  he 
was  determined  that  this  time  the  body  should  not 
be  stolen.  As  he  pondered  during  the  long  and 
silent  hours,  he  reflected  that  he  had  lost  the  oppor- 
tunity of  forcing  Dr.  Etwald  to  say  what  he  had  done 
with  the  body  of  Maurice.  It  had  not  been  found  in 
his  house,  and,  notwithstanding  all  questioning, 
Etwald — with  his  changeless  smile — had  refused  to 
state  where  it  was. 

"I  should  have  wrung  the  truth  from  the  villain 
to-day,"  thought  Jen,  as  he  paced  the  room.  "But 
to-morrow!  To-morrow!  He  shan't  leave  this 
house  until  he  confesses  what  he  has  done  with  the 
remains  of  my  poor  boy.  Ghoul  that  he  is,  wretch 
and  scoundrel. ' ' 

Toward  the  morning  Jen  slept  for  an  hour  or  so,  and 
when  he  rose  and  had  taken  his  bath  he  felt  much 
refreshed,  and  ready  to  face  Etwald  at  this  final 
interview.  At  eleven  o'clock  Mrs.  Dallas  arrived 
with  Isabella,  the  latter  looking  wan  and  ill.  Even 
had  the  major  not  promised  to  be  silent,  he  could 
not  have  brought  himself  to  tell  the  poor  girl  the 
truth  at  that  moment.  After  all,  she  was  perfectly 
innocent,  and  had  committed  the  crime  unwittingly. 
Dido  was  the  culprit,  not  Isabella;  and  the  major 
felt  a  profound  pity  for  the  miserable  girl,  who  had 
been  made  a  tool  of  by  the  unscrupulous  negress 
and  the  evil-minded  Etwald. 

"Well,  major,"  said   Mrs.  Dallas,  after  the  first 


A  FINAL  SURPRISE.  243 

greetings  were  over,  "what  did  that  wicked  man 
say  to  you  yesterday?" 

"He  explained  how  my  poor  Maurice  was  killed." 

"Ah,"  said  Isabella,  clasping  her  hands,  "I  am 
sure  that  it  was  that  terrible  man  who  made  David 
kill  Maurice.  Oh,  if  I  had  only  met  Maurice  on  that 
night,  I  might  have  prevented  the  quarrel." 

"Did  you  not  meet  Maurice,  my  dear?" 

"Of  course  not,"  replied  Isabella,  in  the  most 
truthful  manner.  "I  did  not  leave  the  house,  and 
Dido  was  with  me  all  the  time.  I  expect  Maurice 
was  waiting  for  me,  and  that  David  saw  him.  No 
doubt  they  quarreled,  and  then  the  death  took 
place." 

From  this  speech  it  was  quite  evident  that  the  girl 
was  absolutely  ignorant  of  the  part  which  she  had 
played  in  the  affair.  Still,  to  make  certain,  Jen 
asked  why  she  had  not  kept  the  appointment. 

"I  had  a  nervous  headache,"  she  said,  quickly, 
"and  Dido  hypnotized  me.  When  I  woke  up  it  was 
too  late  to  see  Maurice. ' ' 

This  remark  put  the  matter  beyond  all  doubt. 
The  girl,  by  her  own  admission,  had  been  hypnotized 
by  the  negress,  and,  while  in  the  trance  state,  with 
her  will  at  the  mercy  of  the  other  woman,  she  had 
killed  her  lover.  Morally  speaking,  it  was  Dido,  in 
the  person  of  Isabella,  who  was  the  assassin.  How- 
ever, the  major  had  learned  all  that  he  wished  to 
know,  and  not  wishing  to  pursue  the  subject,  turned 
the  conversation  by  explaining  that  Etwald  was  com- 


244  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

ing  in  a  few  minutes.     Mrs.  Dallas  rose  up  in  a  cold 
fury. 

"Did  you  ask  me  here  to  insult  me,  major?" 

"I  asked  you  here  at  the  particular  request  of  Dr. 
Etwald." 

"Why?  What  can  he  have  to  say  to  my  mother?" 
cried  Isabella,  in  surprise. 

' '  Miss  Dallas,  I  know  no  more  than  you  do ;  but 
he  evidently  desires  to  make  a  clean  breast  of  this 
whole  miserable  business." 

' '  I  have  heard  quite  enough  about  it, ' '  said  Mrs. 
Dallas,  marching  toward  the  door,  "and  I  refuse  to 
meet  that  monster  of  iniquity!" 

But  she  was  too  late,  for,  before  she  could  escape 
from  the  room,  Dr.  Etwald — as  smiling  and  com- 
posed as  ever — entered  the  door.  He  placed  himself 
quietly  before  the  enraged  Mrs.  Dallas. 

"Do  not  go,  madam,"  said  he,  quietly.  "I  have 
something  to  show  you." 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Mrs.  Dallas,  her  curiosity — 
like  that  of  the  major — getting  the  better  of  her 
rage. 

"You  will  see  in  a  few  minutes.  Miss  Dallas,  you 
look  pale.  I  hope  soon  to  bring  back  the  roses  to 
your  cheeks.     Major — " 

"Don't  speak  to  me,  you  scoundrel,  until  you  tell 
me  what  you  have  done  with  the  body  of  my  boy. ' ' 

"You  shall  know  in  a  few  minutes,  major. 
Indeed,  I  think  it  is  about  time  that  this  comedy 
should  end!" 


A  FINAL  SURPRISE.  245 

"Comedy!"  echoed  Mrs.  Dallas,  in  scorn.  "You 
mean  tragedy!" 

"I  mean  no  such  thing,"  retorted  Etwald,  opening 
the  door.  "All  true  comedies  end  in  the  meeting  of 
lovers. ' ' 

"Good  heavens!"  cried  Jen,  recoiling.  "What  do 
you  mean?" 

Etwald  pointed  to  the  open  door. 

"There  is  my  explanation,"  said  he,  coolly. 

The  three  people  gave  a  simultaneous  cry  of 
amazement  and  delight,  for  there,  on  the  threshold 
of  the  room,  alive  and  well,  stood — Maurice  Alymer. 


246  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

THREE  LETTERS. 

THE    FIRST    LETTER    OF    DR.    ETWALD. 

"  Deanminster. 

"My  dear  Major  Jen: 

"In  the  joy  with  which  you  and  Miss  Dallas 
hailed  the  appearance  of  the  man  whom  you 
thought  dead,  I  was — for  the  time  being — quite  for- 
gotten; and  very  naturally  too.  Profiting  by  the 
occasion,  I  left  the  room  and  went  to  the  bedroom 
where  Mr.  Sarby  lay  in  a  trance,  similar  to  that  into 
which  Mr.  Alymer  had  fallen,  both  trances  being 
caused  by  the  poison  of  the  devil -stick.  As  you 
have  learned  from  his  own  lips,  I  revived  him,  as  I 
revived  his  friend;  so  now,  my  good  Jen,  you  have 
your  two  boys  with  you  again,  alive  and  well.  The 
comedy  is  finished ;  and  was  I  not  right  in  denying 
to  these  past  events  the  misleading  name  of 
tragedy? 

"Naturally,  you  wish  to  know  how  the  dead  came 
to  be  alive,  and  for  what  reason  I  behaved  as  I  did. 
Well,  here  you  shall  find  the  whole  explanation,  so 
fully  given  that  there  will  be  no  necessity  for  you  to 
seek  me  at  Deanm.inster.  Indeed,  if  you  do  so,  you 
will  not  find  me,  as  by  the  time   you  receive   this 


THREE  LETTERS.  247 

letter  I  shall  be  well  on  my  way  to  London.  Thence 
it  is  my  intention  to  go  abroad,  and — as  I  told  you 
at  our  last  meeting — you  will  never  see  me  again. 
When  you  finish  this  letter,  you  will,  no  doubt,  be 
glad  of  this;  and  it  is  just  as  well  that  I  should 
remain  beyond  your  reach.  You  are  a  virtuous 
man,  I  am  not — but  our  natures  would  prevent  our 
ever  assimilating,  the  one  with  the  other.  As  to 
my  promised  explanation,  here  it  is,  and  much  good 
may  it  do  you. 

"I  am — as  you  know — a  physician,  but  I  am  also 
what  you  may  not  know — a  man  of  genius.  I  have 
brains,  but  no  money ;  and  for  experiments  in  chem- 
istry, money,  I  regret  to  say,  is  extremely  necessary. 
This  being  the  case,  I  have  needed  money,  and  that 
in  large  quantities,  all  my  life.  As  I  could  not 
make  it  for  myself — not  having  the  mercantile 
instinct — I  resolved  to  gain  it  by  making  a  rich 
marriage.  For  many  years  I  have  traveled  the 
world.  Like  Ulysses,  I  have  known  men  and  cities, 
and  some  years  ago,  Chance — a  deity  at  whose  shrine 
I  always  pay  my  devotions — led  me  to  Barbadoes. 
While  there  I  was  attracted,  as  I  always  am,  by  the 
weird  and  mysterious,  b)'-  the  superstitions  of  the 
African  race.  I  studied  the  cult  of  Obi,  the  belief 
of  the  Voodoo  stone,  and  by  a  strange  train  of  cir- 
cumstances, which  I  need  not  relate,  I  gained  pos- 
session of  that  powerful  talisman  which  is  known  to 
all  negroid  America.  With  this  stone  in  my  posses- 
sion, I  was  king — so  to  speak — of  all  the  black  race. 


248  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

This  power  I  determined  to  use  to  my  own  advan- 
tage, and  through  it  to  make  a  rich  marriage. 

"I  discovered  that  Mrs.  Dallas  was  the  richest 
woman  in  the  West  Indies,  that  she  had  one  fair 
and  marriageable  daughter,  and  that  mother  and 
daughter  were  under  the  influence  of  a  negress 
called  Dido,  who  was  a  profound  believer  in  the  cult 
of  Obi.  I  determined,  therefore,  to  bend  the 
negress  to  my  will  by  means  of  the  Voodoo  stone, 
and  to  marry  the  daughter.  Unfortunately,  Mrs. 
Dallas  and  her  child  were  in  England.  So  thither  I 
went  in  order  to  prosecute  my  suit,  and  obtain 
a  rich  wife  in  the  person  of  Miss  Isabella  Dallas. 
From  information  obtained  in  Barbadoes  I  found 
that  they  were  living  near  Deanminster,  so  to  that 
town  I  repaired,  and  established  myself  as  a  phy- 
sician. I  made  the  acquaintance  o^yourself,  of  Mr. 
Alymer,  and  Mr,  Sarby,  and  also  of  Mrs.  Dallas  and 
her  daughter,  the  young  and  charming  girl  whom  I 
intended  to  make  my  wife. 

"But  here,  as  you  may  guess,  I  found  an  unex- 
pected obstacle.  The  young  lady  was  in  love  with 
Mr.  Alymer,  and  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  an 
elderly  bachelor  like  myself.  I  determined  to 
remove  that  obstacle ;  not  by  death,  but  by  gentler 
means  which  would  do  away  with  all  risk,  and 
place  Miss  Dallas  in  my  power.  Need  I  say  that  I 
allude  to  the  devil-stick? 

"I  knew  that  you  possessed  it,  my  dear  major,  as 
I  had  been  informed  of  its  existence  and  of  its  owner 


THREE  LETTERS.  249 

by  Dido.  Over  this  negress,  by  means  of  the  Voo- 
doo stone,  I  possessed  complete  power.  She  was 
ready  to  do  whatever  I  wanted,  and  I  employed  her 
in  forwarding  my  schemes.  Her  grandmother  had 
come  from  "Ashantee,"  the  native  country  of  the 
wand  of  sleep,  and  knew  all  about  it;  also  she  knew 
how  to  prepare  the  poison.  These  secrets  she  trans- 
mitted to  Dido,  and  I  resolved  to  obtain  the  devil- 
stick,  to  make  Dido  prepare  fresh  poison,  and  to  use 
the  devil-stick  against  my  rival,  Mr.  Alymer. 

"And  now  a  word  about  this  poison.  It  does  not 
kill,  but  merely  places  its  victim  in  a  trance  state, 
which  so  closely  resembles  death  that  not  even  the 
most  expert  doctor  can  tell  the  difference.  If  the 
trance  continues  the  victim  dies;  but  there  is  an 
antidote — which,  by  the  way,  I  obtained  from  Dido 
— and  this  antidote,  if  used  in  time,  can  restore  the 
victim  from  a  state  of  catalepsy  to  his  pristine  vigor. 
I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  use  the  devil-stick,  and 
so,  as  I  was  anxious  to  give  Mr.  Alymer  a  chance  to 
escape,  I  prophesied  to  him  a  state  of  life-in-death. 
This  phrase  describes  exactly  the  trance  state  of 
those  wounded  by  the  devil-stick — impregnated  with 
its  poison. 

"However,  Mr.  Alymer  did  not  take  my  warning 
and  leave  off  coiirting  Miss  Dallas.  On  the  contrary, 
he  announced  his  engagement,  and  carried  off  the 
young  lady  in  triumph.  As  you  may  guess,  from 
what  I  have  said  before,  I  doomed  him  from  that 
hour.     I  made  Dido  hypnotize  Mrs.  Dallas  in  order 


250  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

to  have  the  devil-stick  stolen.  If  you  remember, 
major,  I  offered  to  buy  it,  but  as  you  refused,  I  had  to 
have  it  stolen.  In  order  to  compromise  the  mother,  I 
arranged  that  she  should  steal  it.  She  did,  and  with- 
out having  the  slightest  notion  that  she  was  commit- 
ting the  crime.  When  Dido  obtained  the  devil-stick 
she  filled  it  with  the  poison.  Then  she — by  my 
directions — hypnotized  Miss  Dallas,  put  the  devil- 
stick  into  her  hand,  and  sent  her  forth  to  kill  Mr, 
Alymer.  But  I  should  not  say  kill — as  you  know 
the  devil-stick  cannot  kill — let  us  say,  to  cast  Mr. 
Alymer  into  a  trance.  By  this  ingenious  plot — 
you  must  admit,  major,  that  it  is  ingenious — I  got 
rid  of  the .  lover,  and  obtained  a  hold  over  mother 
and  daughter. 

'*But  to  make  a  long  story  short,  I  had  the  body 
of  Mr.  Alymer  stolen,  with  the  aid  of  Dido,  in  order 
to  revive  my  rival.  I  did  not  wish  him  to  die,  so  I 
took  away  his  body,  and  kept  him  in  the  trance  for 
some  weeks,  feeding  him  in  the  meantime,  so  as  to 
preserve  life.  While  I  was  in  prison.  Dido  attended 
him  by  my  orders.  Mr.  Alymer  was  not  concealed 
in  my  house ;  so  that  is  why  the  police  had  a  useless 
search  for  the  body.  Where  was  he  concealed?  Ah, 
that  is  my  secret. 

"After  the  trial,  seeing  that  Mr.  Sarby  had 
behaved  so  foolishly,  I  decided  to  abandon  the 
game.  Evidently  there  was  no  chance  of  my  win- 
ning the  hand  of  Miss  Dallas;  and  also  I  did  not 
wish  Sarby  to  die.     But  if  I  revived  him,  I  would 


THREE  LETTERS.  251 

have  to  revive  Maurice  also,  the  more  so  as  I  did 
not  want  to  stand  my  trial  for  stealing  his  body. 
The  rest  of  my  story  you  know.  I  revived  Maurice 
and  brought  him  to  you ;  so  I  suppose  he  will  now 
marry  Miss  Dallas.  I  also  revived  David  to  have 
the  satisfaction  of  seeing  the  woman  he  loved  in  the 
arms  of  another.  In  both  cases  the  antidote  was 
efficacious.  So  now,  my  dear  major,  as  I  said  before, 
you  have  your  two  dear  boys  once  more  in  the  flesh, 
and  I  hope  you  are  satisfied.  Did  I  not  tell  you  that 
the  devil  is  not  so  black  as  he  is  painted? 

"Well,  my  plot  has  failed,  and  now  I  am  depart- 
ing to  look  anew  for  a  rich  wife.  Also  to  find  Dido, 
and  get  back  the  Voodoo  stone,  of  which  she  robbed 
me.  You  will  never  meet  me  again,  and  I  dare  say 
you  won't  be  sorry  to  see  the  back  of  me.  And 
now,  my  dear  major,  I  fancy  I  have  told  you  all,  and 
you  know  the  meaning  of  the  many  mysteries  which 
have  puzzled  you  for  so  long.  There  remains  only 
to  say  adieu,  and  remain  your  evil  genius  (now 
resigned),  Max  Etwald. " 

THE  SECOND  LETTER  OF  DR.    ETWALD. 

"Barbadoes. 
"My  dear  Major  Jen: 

"It  is  over  a  year  since  I  wrote  you  my  explana- 
tory letter  from  Deanminster,  and  I  little  thought 
that  it  would  be  necessary  for  me  to  write  to  you 
again,  least  of  all  from  this  place.  But  here  I  came 
in  search  of  Dido;  and  here  I  found  Mrs.  Dallas, 
and  to  my  profound  astonishment  her  daughter — 


252  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

Still  Miss  Dallas.  I  sought  an  explanation.  They 
would  not  give  me  one.  In  despair — having 
received  the  most  uncivil  reception — I  left  them. 
Then,  to  my  surprise,  I  ran  across  Mr.  David  Sarby. 

"He  was  glad  to  see  me,  and  thanked  me  for  bring- 
ing him  back  from  the  grave.  I,  on  my  side,  com- 
plimented him  for  saving  my  neck  from  the  hang- 
man's noose.  -The  first  greetings  thus  being  over,  he 
told  me  the  news  which  concerned  those  who  where 
implicated  in  our  little  Deanminster  comedy.  I 
confess  that  the  news  surprised  me ;  and  I  write  to 
you  for  an  explanation. 

"In  the  first  place,  I  learned  from  Mr.  Sarby  that 
Isabella  Dallas  refused  to  marry  Mr.  Alymer,  and 
that,  far  from  being  offended,  he  appeared  to  be 
glad  of  the  release  from  his  engagement.  I  also 
learned  that  he  has  since  married  Lady  Meg  Brance, 
who  has  always  been  so  deeply  in  love  with  him. 
Will  you  be  so  kind,  my  dear  major,  as  to  explain 
this  sudden  misplacing  of  Mr.  Alymer's  affections? 

"I  learned,  also,  f^om  Mr.  Sarby,  that  he  has  pre- 
vailed upon  Miss  Dallas,  the  deserted  Ariadne  of 
Mr.  Alymer,  to  reward  his  long  devotion  by  giving 
him  her  hand.  I  hear  that  they  are  to  be  married  with- 
in the  month,  and  that  the  match  is  one  which  meets 
with  the  full  approbation  of  Mrs.  Dallas.  Under 
these  circumstances  I  am  afraid  that  there  is  no 
chance  of  my  marrying  Miss  Dallas ;  so  I  must  con- 
tent myself  with  searching  for  another  wife. 

"I  found  in  my  brief  interview  with  Miss  Dallas 


THREE  LETTERS.  253 

that  she  had  learned  how  she  had  tried  to  kill  Mr. 
Alymer  while  under  the  hypnotic  influence  of  Dido. 
Perhaps  this  knowledge  broke  off  the  match,  and 
the  young  couple  took  a  dislike  to  one  another  from 
the  peculiar  circumstances  of  that  night.  Certainly — 
hypnotism  or  not — one  would  not  care  to  marry  a 
woman  who  had  attempted  one's  life;  so  that,  I  con- 
jecture, is  the  reason  of  Mr.  Alymer's  withdrawal. 
"Also,  Miss  Dallas  must  have  had  a  horror  of  see- 
ing constantly  before  her  the  man  whom — inno- 
cently enough — she  tried  to  kill.  Hence  her  refusal 
to  marry  your  dear  Maurice.  Am  I  wrong  in  these 
ideas?  I  think  not.  Still  I  should  like  an  explana- 
tion from  you.  As  I  shall  be  here  for  some 
months — searching  for  the  Voodoo  stone  and  Dido — 
please  send  your  letter  to  Barbadoes,  directed  to 
your  anxious  inquirer,  Max  Etwald. ' ' 

THE    THIRD    LETTER    OF    DR.     ETWALD. 

* '  Barbadoes. 
"My  dear  Major  Jen: 

"It  is  now  some  months  since  I  wrote  you,  mak- 
ing certain  inquiries,  yet  you  have  not  been  cour- 
teous enough  to  gratify  my  curiosity.  That  is  cruel 
of  you!  Miss  Dallas  is  now  Mrs.  Sarby,  the  other 
lady  is  now  Lady  Meg  Alymer;  yet  you  will  not 
tell  me  how  this  strange  transfer  of  wives  came 
about.  Never  mind,  I  am  sure  the  explanation  I 
fancied  in  my  last  letter  is  t\ie  correct  one.  But  you 
are  a  rude  correspondent.  Fie,  major.  Fie!  Fie! 
Fie! 


254  FOR  THE  DEFENSE. 

"I  shall  return  good  for  evil,  and  tell  yon  that  I 
have  regained  possession  of  the  Voodoo  stone. 
Dido  is  dead ;  killed  by  her  own  excitement  at  an 
Obi  orgie.  I  am  now  the  King  of  the  Black  Race 
throughout  the  world,  by  possession  of  the  stone, 
but  to  you  I  shall  remain,  for  the  last  time,  my  dear 
major,  MaxEtwald. " 


THE  END. 


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